Quaere Verum
by the midnight rhapsody
Summary: For the sake of his sister, Roxas sells lives on the street corner, when he's not taking them. Axel wants to make it all disappear, but Roxas left for more reasons than he's willing to admit, and destruction waits just beyond the horizon. Roxas/Axel.
1. Nobody

Three things you should know: 1) Roxas makes his will known using popular phrases because he's terrible at Latin, and not because he's trying (and failing) to be clever. 2) Things will explain themselves in due course. 3) I don't own Kingdom Hearts. I'm just a crazy bitch with ideas.

* * *

**Part I**

_**Nobody**_

* * *

His opponent is thick and swift and elegant.

Roxas knows he won't have a problem, but he'd like to drag out the match – he'll let his opponent bat him around for a while, before pouncing. It gives the crowd more entertainment, which will excite them – which will, in turn, excite him.

This is life. This is _the _life. This is how to feel alive.

He bows shortly and grins at his opponent, open and disarming. The man is too quick to fall for the act – _easy prey. Easy win. Easy kill._

"Fight," roars the announcer, and the thick man jumps in a blur. He whips out his blade and subconsciously follows Roxas' movements. Roxas begins the dance.

Every three swings, he lets the blade nick him. The smell of the blood is _oh so exciting _and the feel of the blade on his skin is _oh so wonderful. _He thinks, with only a little sourness, that this is very intimate and he's not attracted to his partner at all.

Perhaps it's _not _the best idea to drag on the fight.

Calling out to the night, he forms two blades in his hands – one of light, one of darkness. His opponent does not stop moving, but he's clearly surprised. _Good. _Roxas begins the dance again.

Step forward, step back. Sideways. Jump. Roll. Glide. It's all so mundane...all so simple. If he's going to win this quickly, he'll do it the fun way.

"Effigie: mens rea," he whispers, and his opponent drops his weapon, eyes bulging in horror. This is one of Roxas' special spells; his own vicious creation. His opponent's water spells and ice spells were all too predictable; he is clearly an ice mage, but it won't help him here.

"I'm sorry," the man says, dropping to his knees. Roxas gets a thrill out of watching his opponents feel the guilt of all the things they've ever done. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I...oh god."

He doesn't want to wait for long. One of the drawbacks of his illusion spells is that they are easily breakable – by pain. All he needs to do is pinch himself, and it's over.

Roxas jumps and shouts, "Fiat lux!" Immediately, his finishing move begins to take hold of his body. His blades whir in his outstretched hands, calling light to them. He calls down light from the sky, which hits the man – immediately drawing him out of the illusion, but it's too late. He's been caught off guard. The fight is over.

Light flashes, and he lets it pull him. He cuts the man as he passes, just a small slice at a time, reveling in the cheers from the crowd. _This is how to feel alive. _

All too soon, the spell is finished. He drops gracefully to his feet from the air and sets his dark blade at his opponent's throat. "Do you concede?"

It's a very hard question to answer, he knows. The man must not want to die; he fought well, but not well enough. But it's a bit disgraceful to walk away from a fight on the mercy of the victor. Nobody here wants to be disgraced.

Roxas presses the blade more firmly against the neck, making sure to keep the skin intact. "Do you concede. Answer me, or I will kill you now and be done with it."

"I..." The man sounds terrified. "I'd rather die."

Roxas feels no satisfaction in taking a life; but he doesn't feel guilt. It's all part of the routine. He severs the head neatly and as swiftly as possible; he's an adrenaline addict, and cruel, but he's not a sadist. He'll grant the man a quick death.

Cheers erupt from all sides. He wonders, not for the first time, if this town is sick – what kind of people revel in blood and death? – but bows all the same. There is nothing, now that he's won. No feeling. Just routine.

He doesn't belong here. But there's nowhere else to go.

* * *

In the uncertain waking state, when the subconscious retreats from dreams, his eyes flutter open and he groans at the golden sparkles slithering through the curtains. His covers were kicked off sometime during the night; in spite of the persistent sunlight, it's dreadfully cold. The empty space is cold beside him.

He comes aware in sections, throbbing feet first. _Another day at work, _he thinks, and then his calves awaken and he can barely think for pain. It's always like this. He'll heal, but he won't forget. Always is this the way of things; all healed, none forgotten. A nightmare in pieces.

"Heal," he mumbles. Immediately, he feels the silken magic running through him, nerves and muscles and bones jumping to obey the commands of their savior. He imagines it's green, but that's just silly. Magic is invisible and intangible. It's part of what optimists call _soul _and realists call _void._

Ha. Like _he's _lived a life in reality.

"Roxas," says a small voice, and he is immediately fully awake. _Naminé._

"I'm here," he murmurs. Soft steps, little bare feet on floorboards, and she's in his room. Tears in her eyes. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Naminé nods and pulls herself into bed beside him, burying her face in the faded creases of his loose shirt. "I saw the man again."

Roxas isn't angry; he's past that now. He barely remembers what anger _is, _anymore – his days are too full for tiresome trivialities like _emotion. _Naminé, job, Naminé, dinner, Naminé, job, bed. Rearing a child...he didn't sign up for this. But he can't walk away.

"What happened?" He already knows.

"He...he took Mommy and...and Daddy tried, but...and I couldn't open my eyes!" Naminé bursts into another round of small crystal tears, and he doesn't rub his forehead, but he'd like to. He'd like a lot of things, probably. Just because he can't think of them...well. It doesn't matter.

"Shh, it's okay," he lies. It isn't okay. 'The Man' isn't just a nightmare, and he isn't just one. Just one of many. "It was just a dream." Only it wasn't.

But it was a dream, too. "I know."

Dimly, Roxas remembers hating her. She took away his life, his freedom, and his will to live. But he only hated her because his parents weren't around. He doesn't remember loving them. He doesn't think he ever did.

"I should get us some breakfast," he tells her, trying for a soothing tone. He can't tell if he's succeeded, but since she's only shaking and not sobbing, he congratulates himself on a job well done. If there was anybody who cared, they'd call him an idiot. But who cares about anyone? It's too dangerous. _Times is hard, _or so they say.

He pushes her off gently and reluctantly gets out of bed. Time to start the day. Today he'll hit Market Square, and tonight he'll go to the Chapel. There's always money to be made at the Chapel. Dirty, dishonest money, but if people let themselves be cheated, they deserve it.

Naminé does not know about his night job. She doesn't know about the bruises and pain and blood. She's better than that. Probably. At any rate, six is too young to be introduced to that scene.

"Lux," he whispers, pointing at the ceiling to brighten the room. A useless gesture, really, but on some occasions he slips and falls back into his teachings. _You must make the objective clear. You must give the objective focus. _Bullshit.

But it's not their fault he was made wrong.

"Roxas, I want pancakes," Naminé says, rubbing her crusty blue eyes. Dammit, she's got conjunctivitis again; that's probably why she said her eyes wouldn't open. He's not precise enough to heal one small body part, and they can't afford eye drops, but he has to do _something – _he'll have to bet extra tonight, in another form, and hope nobody finds out.

"I'm sorry. We don't have anything to make them," he tells her. It sounds a little short, even to him, but he doesn't know how to rectify the damage which has been done.

"Oh...okay." What luck, to be a child. A dream is just a dream, even if it's a memory. The bumps in the night are monsters. Pancakes are the biggest desire in the mornings. "Can we have mush instead?"

Roxas makes a face, but replies, "Sure." How she stomachs the fake oats is beyond his understanding. But it's cheap, and if she likes it, that means they don't have to spend as much on groceries.

_Practicality._

"I'll make you some toast, too. But while I'm cooking you need to get ready for school, okay? Change your clothes, brush your hair and teeth, and wash your face. Make sure to wipe your eyes with a warm cloth."

"Okay," she says again, and leaves the room.

_Practicality, _he tells himself, and turns to the stove. Despite the sudden urge, he doesn't press his hand to the burner.

* * *

Some things make him sick. Some things make him wish he were dead. Sunlight does both, but he can't avoid it. So he endures. He heals, and he casts shadows, and he smiles, because they expect smiles. It's his job.

"I wanna see a – a fire," says one small girl, tugging on her mother's skirt.

"Honey, that's not why we're here," the woman whispers, snow in the wind. It's not exactly as subtle as she thinks, but his ears are better than most. Straightening, and in a stronger voice, she says, "I need a healing spell. My son is..."

He waits for her to finish. When it becomes obvious she's unwilling, or unable, he nods, understanding. The unspoken is that the doctors have given up, and she's too weak to let nature take its course. She can't let him go. As a general rule, civilians hate magic; desperation is the only reason they come to him. Desperation is the only reason he has a job. Perfunctory spellcasting isn't something he's particularly proud of, but it helps pay the bills.

"I don't do home visits," he tells her. Her face falls. "But ya know, I can bottle the spell for you. Its power will be diluted, and it's more expensive, but..."

"It's okay, I'll do it. I can always come back if it's not enough, right?"

He thinks, if he knew how to be compassionate, the heart he doesn't have might 'go out' to her. Whatever that means. "Yeah."

"Then please...I'll give you anything. Just help me."

Desperation is the reason he has a job. Practicality is the reason he keeps it. He doesn't have a place here – he never has – but he has obligations here. He hates his clients and he hates the sunlight and he hates dumbing down his every sentence and acting pleasant and _smiling, _but he isn't living for himself. He's living for Naminé. She's the only person who's never given him any sort of grief.

Pretending to focus, he brings a jar into existence – a pointless trick, using darkness to transport from his bag to his hand, but it impresses the clients and entertains the children – and closes his eyes. For theatrics. "Heal."

The woman's eyes widen as the ribbon of magic pours into the jar. He used a light illusion spell and painted the magic green, just to assure her that he wasn't giving her an empty jar; he always does it. You can buy invisible magic from the legitimate shop on the other side of town, or you can buy visible magic from the pretty man on Market Street. For most, it's better to be seen talking to a street vendor than to be seen walking into a magic shop.

He closes the lid – not that it's necessary – and hands her the jar. She takes it delicately, as though the jar will break if she grips it tight.

The small girl smiles at him and he notices a small gap between her teeth – she's recently lost one. Her braids are messy and her dress is soiled and she is so unlike Naminé she could be from an alien race. He smiles back. Leaning forward, she asks, "Can I see a fire?"

"Sorry," he says, false apology in his tone. "I'd love to show you, but I don't do fire. I could never control it all that great; unless I'm lighting a fireplace, I shouldn't try in public. Everybody's got limits; that's mine."

Her face falls for only half a second, before she shrugs. "Okay. Well, I bet Mommy couldn't pay for it anyway."

"Emily," the woman hisses. Not meeting his eyes, she asks, "How much do I owe you?"

Her eyes are on her daughter. For a moment, he takes the time to read her; he's never been particularly good at observation, but he was trained well. And being on the streets has given him time to practice. He leans forward and whispers the answer, so 'Emily' won't hear.

"Oh," she says, and then fumbles with her pocketbook. "Oh."

He wonders if this is where he should feel guilty, but it isn't coming. Nothing comes, anymore, except irritation and the thrill of the hunt. She hands him everything she has and brings another three bills out of her cleavage – what an odd place to keep things – and gives him a weak smile. "The magic shop cost three times this much," she says. "You're a life saver."

Somehow, this does not appeal to him. "Glad to be of service."

The mother takes hold of her daughter's hand and begins to pull her away. Over her shoulder, Emily calls, "G'bye, Mr. Magic Man! It's okay about the fire!"

He doesn't smile or wave; he lied to her. Fire is not a strength of his, but he can control it well enough. He just _doesn't. _In some corner of his mind, it reminds him of something. Something big he must have left behind.

"My, my. Admitting our limits now, are we," someone says. He turns his head to the left. Someone is standing there – a stranger – with an odd look on his face, somewhere between victory and defeat. His hair is a bright, annoying red and his eyes are violent, electric green. His body is entirely too thin to be healthy, and his hips are much larger than anyone would expect on a man, but he _is _male. If the voice hadn't given him away, his movements would have.

The stranger makes a funny _took_ing noise with his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Look at what you've been reduced to, Roxas. Street magic for commoners."

_Commoners. _That sparks something – he can't grasp it. He doesn't know if he wants to grasp it. _Commoners. Limits. _The academy? Red hair...ridiculous body...green eyes. Who _is _this man? It's on the tip of his mental tongue.

"You...didn't memorize me, did you," the man asks – sadly. Oh.

_Oh._

"Go away, Axel," he says. "I'm done with you and your kind. I got family to take care of."

He feels vaguely horrified – wow, that's new – at the way he's speaking to Axel. He's never been more unrefined, and Axel knows it's all a lie.

"I seem to remember you saying something else, before."

"Fuck you."

"Yes," Axel says, all vowels and a short _z _sound playing the part of _s. _It makes Roxas think of winter mornings and despair. "I miss that."

"I don't," he says shortly. He wishes his old roommate would leave. He has potential clients still, and Axel's taking up precious time. "I barely remember you at all."

The man recoils, like he's been slapped, and then his eyes narrow. "I'm not going to accept that."

"Get used to disappointment then," Roxas retorts. "I have a new life. And potential business you're blocking with your giant pelvis."

Axel considers for several moments before frowning deeply. His eyes soften in a very strange way. "What happened to you, Roxas? What happened to our studies? What happened to ars gratia artis?"

"That was when we were pretentious little boys, Axel. I live in the _real world _now. In the real world, magic is for killing and for feeding your family. In the real world, there is rent to pay and perpetual _fear _of your own fucking _neighbor. _You want dead languages? _Qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum. _I don't have time for ideals."

There's a small sigh. "You...what happened to you? The Roxas I knew would never-"

"You didn't know me," he says, deliberately airy and free. "You projected. Now go away. I'm working."

"I'll come back," Axel informs.

"I'll find a different spot."

"I'll find you again."

"I'll kill you."

Axel blinks stupidly, clearly not expecting that response. He hasn't lived this life. He hasn't lived this war. He hasn't had to teach his young sister emergency spells to keep her safe on the playground. He doesn't belong here.

As if mirroring Roxas' thoughts, Axel says softly, "You don't belong here."

"And I don't belong with you. I never did. You _know _it was only a matter of time before I dropped you guys."

"If you don't belong with me," he says smoothly, "and you don't belong here...why are you not somewhere else? You were never one to let _obligations _keep you in situations you didn't like."

"I don't have a place, dumbass. I never did. Now _get lost, _before I decide to kill two people today."

"You're serious?"

"Does this look like my laughing face?"

Axel sighs. "I suppose...I'll leave you alone. For now. But I'm not letting you go again...not after I've finally found you."

"Go. _Away."_

Axel goes.


	2. Dwelling

This took an inordinate amount of time. I'm sorry; I was on vacation for two weeks.

I don't usually bother with author notes, but I figure I should be a good author and give some warnings. First, while this is most definitely a fantasy story, it's not a cute fairytale. I'm going into Inner Bullshit, but be warned, ye philosophers: we're not finding answers. We're just generally making ourselves unhappy for a long time. Second, this is rated M for violence, dark themes, a little gore (but not much; excessive gore is funny), death, and language. Not sex. Third, it will take some time to explain the history between Roxas and Axel, as well as the world in which they live. Essentially, I'm writing this from Roxas' point of view, if he's talking about himself like another person. He doesn't really think sequentially, if he's remembering things.

Also, chapter length can/will be anywhere from a thousand words to fifteen thousand, depending on the concepts. I don't set limits; if you think that's bad, you should see the second book I wrote. *shudder* (But you won't. It's total shit. We don't talk about that one.)

...I hate author notes. This will (hopefully) be the last one I have to write for this story.

* * *

**Part II**

**Dwelling

* * *

**

Seeing Axel again has created an unwelcome crack in his perfectly structured existence, and Roxas wants it to go away – but short of killing the man, he doesn't know how to put an end to the intrusion. It was easy to tell Axel he'd take his life, because he knew he was capable of doing so...but he doesn't want to. He's not fond of needless brutality, mostly because it's just another stressor he has to process.

And he has fond memories of his roommate at the Academy, even if memories of the Academy itself leave a bad taste in his head.

He doesn't know what to do.

"Roxas?"

He looks at his sister in his lap, hands neatly folded on her knees, and tries for a smile. "Hmm?"

When she looks up at him, blue eyes wide and innocent, he tries to make his smile bigger. "Are you going to your other job tonight?"

He should. They need the money, and he needs a way to vent his stress so he can focus clearly. But he does have limits; for practical, _medical _reasons, he can't. Not tonight. "Nope, it's you and me tonight. What do you want to do?"

Her entire face seems to light up at the prospect of spending time with him, and he wonders whether he ought to feel happy or grateful or something similar. He pushes it out of his mind as she says, "I want to work on spells!"

He's wary of teaching her; not because she's incapable of handling magic, but because she's very capable. He isn't sure where or when to stop; magic proficiency at a young age was the reason he'd been taken to the Academy in the first place.

"I'm not sure what else to teach you," he tells her, going for a partial truth. "You're so good already; you're going to surpass me at this rate. Maybe we should practice the escaping trick and the shock blast?"

Those are Naminé's favorites. Shadow travel because it's fun and looks interesting; shock blast because...

Well. He doesn't like to think on that too much.

"Okay," she says, disappointed. He understands, but he won't change his mind.

"Why don't you show me how good you've gotten?"

* * *

He wakes in a tight shell, wrapped and immobile and perhaps it's a box, not a shell. Seeing is hard and breathing is harder. A child's coffin? Did they put him in the ground in his sister's place? Her fire was so large and out of control –

He rocks and Naminé's face appears and suddenly it's not a box, but his sheets. He struggles out of the twists and gasps for breath, startling her. He notices the jump and puts his arms tightly around her. The fire...it was only a dream. Teaching her, failing her, was only a dream.

"G'morning, Roxas," she says, grinning up at him like she hasn't a care at all.

"Morning," he replies, and he wishes he had the strength to say _no more magic. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. _But he can't protect her at school, or during the four-hour period he's gone most nights. He can't stop it.

Not until the stalemate ends and both sides come to blows. Then, he'll most likely have to leave her.

There are many things he dislikes, but not many he hates; that kind of emotion is too strong for him to grasp most of the time. It's neither a blessing nor a curse, but a nonissue...he still hates on occasion. He hates this. He hates the idea that soon, he could be drafted to fight for a cause he doesn't believe in. He hates the very real fear of being driven out of Hollow Bastion. He hates being helpless and perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to have another magic-user around to help him protect Naminé when he's not available, but where could he possibly find someone? Magic-users are rare, and after Larxene–

Axel.

Axel would help him. He's sure of it. If only because he apparently can't let go, Axel would help him.

"Naminé," he says, sitting up and pulling her into his lap, "how would you like to miss school and come with me today?"

Her smile widens. "School is stupid! They teach us magic is bad."

Of course they do. He knows why; after he left to the Academy, the Mage Uprising caused panic and destruction in the whole of Hollow Bastion, before the Council expelled or executed them. Only the magic children were spared, and now magic is regulated. Even Roxas' magic is bordering on illegal. If they knew about Naminé...

But they don't. And as young as she is, she understands how important it is to only use magic in dire situations. How important it is not to tell.

"Good. I'm taking you to meet someone."

She scowls. "Someone like _Lar – Larxene?"_

He shakes his head vehemently, forcing away what's dangerously close to sadness. "Oh, no, nothing like that."

He only vaguely understands why Naminé misses Larxene. She was a strong woman, but she was also cruel and thoughtless. Perhaps it's because she paid attention to Naminé, who'd never been the focus of anyone before, that she's missed so much in this small house?

"Well, good." Of course Naminé doesn't want a replacement. "Who is it?"

Roxas sighs – this isn't something he's excited to do. "He's...an old friend, of sorts."

But it's necessary.

* * *

He's at the spot from yesterday, as predicted.

Axel looks unsure of himself. It's almost bizarre, Roxas thinks, because Axel always tries to seem confident and arrogant. Arrogance is not attractive, but Axel says it adds to 'the persona,' whatever that means. In his personal life, Roxas is never anything but what he truly is.

"Is that him," Naminé whispers, holding tightly to two of his fingers. Her hands are not large enough to encircle any more than that.

"Yes," Roxas says.

"What is he doing?"

With a vague sort of amusement, Roxas replies, "Waiting for me." He knows Naminé won't grasp the full situation, being six, but she's smart enough to know they're going to give the man a surprise. She likes surprises, and will be quiet; he's grateful for that.

"I was hoping you'd be discouraged," he says clearly, stepping out from the hiding shadow. Axel doesn't jump, but even Roxas can tell it was a very near thing. "Now I might have to actually find a new place."

"Hey, Roxas," Axel says, demeanor changing instantly. Roxas still doesn't know how _or why _he does that. "What's up?"

Naminé hides behind his leg and he remembers why they're here. "Where are you staying?"

"Uh...why? I thought you didn't care."

"I don't." Roxas closes his eyes and sighs. He needs Axel, so he can't say things like that. "I mean, I was lying to you then. I want to know."

"Lying." Axel studies him for a moment, during which he feels extremely uncomfortable and shields Naminé from nonexistent harm. "Well, whatever. I'm staying at the Royale on Center and Main."

"That's a shi-" He remembers Naminé and winces. _"Shady _place, Axel. You should stay somewhere safe. In fact, I have a proposition for you."

Axel purses his lips and cocks one hip, placing a hand on it. Oh, Roxas remembers this act; but Axel isn't as attractive as he thinks he is. "Does it involve you, me, and a bed?"

"_Axel," _he hisses, gesturing discreetly at Naminé.

"Well, maybe just a couch. Or, hell, a table."

The sharp grin once would have set Roxas' teeth on edge, but he's not bothered. He doesn't think being 'bothered' would even show on his face anymore. "Yes, it does. Me, my house, and you in the spare bedroom, in exchange for a few...services."

"Such as?"

"Well, picking up Naminé from school, for one," he says, "and babysitting during the times I...uh, can't be there." Axel isn't stupid, so Roxas adds hastily, "I have two jobs. My night job never lasts more than four hours, and Naminé should be in bed by that time anyway, so...yeah. I'll feed you, buy the essentials, give you a place to stay...but I need assistance, and you're the only one I'd trust with this."

This is a stretch – more of a leap, really. He knows a decent woman two blocks away who would be willing to take Naminé as a playmate for her own daughters, but he'd have to pay her with money he doesn't have. Naminé's schooling eats away at his pocket, but if she had to attend public school...

Well, he doesn't think about it.

"So...basically, you want me to watch out for the kid while you're _working, _you'll shelter me from the _big bad city, _and we'll forget everything that happened? Are you _stupid?"_

"Axel," he says, voice soft. He doesn't go for cajoling; he goes for pleading. "I'm not stupid. I'm desperate."

He isn't. But it's a sure way to get Axel to comply. He thinks that perhaps, if he was still the same headstrong, irritable boy he was at the Academy, he would be mortified at his own actions; but he's learned to adapt.

"So, you're at _my _mercy."

"Uh...sure."

Axel steps closer. Roxas holds his breath and sucks himself in, trying to make sure Axel doesn't touch him, but he has no reason to worry; Axel just ruffles Naminé's hair and gives her his horribly smooth, horribly dishonest smile.

"I'm Axel. Who are you?"

Roxas thinks the introduction is pointless, because he already knows who Naminé is, but her voice is surprisingly delighted when she answers, "I'm Naminé. It's nice to meet you, Axel."

She's well-mannered, for a six-year-old. He didn't teach her. He wonders if her teachers did.

Axel shakes her hand and says, "Yeah. You know what? I like you. I guess I'm on the team, kiddo."

And it would be sweet, in another setting. In another life.

* * *

Axel fits into their home like the proverbial square peg. Roxas prefers black and dull colors, plain furnishing and wood floors. The red hair and bright eyes are almost lurid in this setting.

"Well, it's..."

"A dwelling," Roxas says quickly.

"I know that word," Naminé says, beaming with pride. To be a child again...no. It would be worse to be ignorant of all this. She is going to be shocked and saddened, when she can understand. "I found it in a book and learned it in the thesaurus!"

He is never proud of things, but when he considers Naminé's intelligence, he comes dangerously close to being proud of her. Despite constant neglect, she learned well and found she enjoys reading almost as much as magic.

Axel smiles down at her, as though he's actually fond of her. "Oh?"

"Dwelling: the place where one lives; home; abode...that's all I can remember. But it means a house!"

"Yeah, this...is definitely a dwelling. But home? Really, Roxas?"

Through his teeth, he says, "Let me show you to your room." In a nicer tone, he tells Naminé, "I'm going to take Axel to the spare bedroom. Maybe you can get your drawings and tack them up on the board."

"Okay!" Naminé runs off, looking happy to be tasked.

"Come on," he tells Axel. "It's just down this hall."

Axel follows quietly and Roxas pauses at the doorway to the bathroom. "This is Naminé's bathroom; don't go in there. You can use mine."

"And I'll take advantage of that _privilege _as much as possible," Axel says snidely. Roxas refrains from punching him. The urge is uncommon and unexpected; he clearly needs to go to work tonight.

Axel catches hold of his arm and Roxas clenches his fist to curb the desire to deal out a bruise. "Hey. What the hell."

"What the hell _what?"_

Axel visibly draws on some kind of strength and asks, "What are you doing? Are you even...I mean, are you...happy here?"

The question is unwanted; and he's sure Axel knows the answer already. Didn't they just discuss this yesterday? He _doesn't belong here. _But he really, truly has nowhere else to go...and the Academy doesn't count.

"Shut up, Axel," he says, and wishes for the usual cocky expression instead of the crestfallen look he receives.


	3. Body

**III**

**_Body

* * *

_ **

For the first time, the vacuum of internal quiet develops an abrupt, unintentional tear in the wall when he severs the femoral artery.

The crowd is cheering and throwing drinks or empty food containers, and he quickly erects a light-based shield to block the incoming projectiles from hitting his opponent – oh _god, _there's so much blood.

He's supposed to be a doctor. He has a moral aversion to breast enhancements and a physical aversion to anything concerning the eyes, but he's been trained in the arts of healing and altering, he can fix this,he heals people when he's not heating or cooling their houses. He's even more proficient in medmagic than in battle magic and _he can fix this _and he can't because in this tournament it's illegal and he can't afford to be disqualified because he bet twice on himself under different illusions and _there's so much blood._

The blood is not bad; it's familiar. This urge is not. He's supposed to be a doctor, supposed to stop bleeding like this. So why does he feel like playing in it, like a small child in mud?

It's all very disquieting. Only one week ago, he would have been able to stand passively to the side as his brash, overconfident opponent bled out; but ever since Axel came...

"I can make it stop," he says, crouching down and forcing his hands to remain at his sides, forcing the smile away from his lips, forcing the blood craving down.

But she's too far gone, somewhere safe in her own subconscious, so he decides for her. With shaking hands and a silent formless spell, he sucks the remaining life out of her and stands victorious, playing to his disgusting crowd. He can feel her shifting inside of him, and for the first time, he wants to take it back.

He should leave. He should leave and never return. But he's scheduled to kill some faceless newcomer in an hour. Naminé will suffer if he's disqualified.

He takes a breath and forces his way into the quiet again, fills his mind with thoughts of his small sister and the smile he'll see on her face when he brings home the small heart-shaped candies she likes. Sugar bought with money bought with blood.

So much blood.

* * *

In the early years, before the Academy, Roxas was perpetually a bull in a china shop; something ugly and unrefined, prone to breaking everything around him. He didn't understand why they were broken, or why they couldn't fix themselves. He didn't lie, he didn't care, and he didn't apologize.

Then there was Axel.

* * *

"Where were you?"

Roxas jumps and fails to hide the pain he feels when he puts too much pressure on his left side. Whatever that last kid did to him is preventing him from healing properly, and – the kid deserved to die in such a pathetic way. The upstart dared to call himself Sora, after the Hero of Legend. It's a mistake the world should be glad to be rid of.

"I was at work," he tells Axel, still oddly startled. The light is dim and he should have seen the new addition to his household sitting there, in the faded brown armchair, waiting. In this light, Axel's hair is the color of arterial blood and Roxas has to look away.

"Work?"

He frowns at Axel's skeptical tone. "Yes. I told you when we made this agreement, I have two jobs; today, I just...worked overtime."

"Why are you limping?"

"I...it was an accident," he says, and he's scrabbling for excuses without knowing why. "Things got a little rough tonight, but usually it's not this bad."

He hears Axel move and refuses to look, even when Axel's right beside him and close to touching like they used to do. The tension is tangible and heavy in his throat, but he wonders if Axel senses it at all. "Why do you do this?"

"Money," he says tersely, and begins his slow trek to his bedroom. Axel is following him, he knows, but he doesn't have the energy to fight it tonight.

"But do you really have to resort to...um, I mean, that sort of thing is for commoners. You-"

"I _am _a commoner, Axel," he says. He doesn't bother to shut himself in his room; Axel likes to open doors he shouldn't. "In case you have forgotten, it was your job to integrate me into 'high society' so I could be shown off to the patrons every quarter."

As predicted, Axel follows him in and stands before him as he sits on the edge of his bed. He can feel Axel looming there, a presence he's sure would be intimidating if Axel was capable of being intimidating. As he begins his in-depth diagnostic check, Axel says, "But you don't have to, you know, lower yourself like this. You're great in bed, but you _have_ other marketable skills."

Roxas suddenly realizes that Axel – what an idiot, trying to pretend to relate and care – has gotten the wrong impression entirely. "I'm a ring fighter. I kill people for a living. I don't sleep with them."

"Oh." He wonders if that tone means Axel's unnerved; he doesn't know why he would be, but it sounds like he is. "Oh. Well...oh."

"I don't have sex with people anymore," he continues, frowning when he finds a blocking spell that will be slightly difficult to nullify. But he's supposed to be a doctor. He can fix it. "It only invites attachment, which becomes problematic."

"Uh..."

In the Academy, Roxas would have laughed rather maliciously if Axel was so stupefied. Now, he can't muster up any amusement. Remembering he's supposed to be crass, he adds, "I'm too busy to care, and I'm way too professional get it up anymore anyway. My patients would be very unsatisfied. On the other hand, fighting is easy. I was born to do it."

He doesn't know why he's speaking at all, except that in this light, Axel's hair is like arterial blood and he can't focus unless he's properly unfocused. Axel is the cause, and Axel is the cure.

Typical.

He wonders if Axel knows how close to the truth that last statement is.

"You – Roxas – _that's even worse," _Axel hisses, and Roxas is startled into stopping his scan. He's never seen Axel this impassioned about anything.

"How is it worse? How could I, in good conscience, feed Naminé with sex money?" He makes a disgusted noise and forces a thin strand of healing magic into the weak part of the block. "When I left you, did I take your priorities with me, or were you just feigning practicality the whole time?"

"So you'll feed her with murder, but not with something every human does?"

"I thought you were opposed to prostitution," he snips, irritated. "And it's not murder if they're asking for it."

"I _am _opposed to it, but I never figured you for a killer, Roxas. I thought you had more character than that. Weren't you going to be a doctor or something? Isn't that why Xemnas was so angry with you?"

"Shut. Up." He doesn't know why he's so angry. He doesn't know why Axel even affects him so much; he shouldn't. Roxas hasn't felt anything in such a long time...anger is not what he wanted to feel first. "Just shut up. You don't know anything. You don't understand _anything."_

Axel almost shrinks back, as if...as if he's frightened. But Roxas knows better. Axel would never be frightened of him. In a quieter tone, Axel says, "I could, if you'd tell me what _happened _to make you like this."

"I..." He frowns. "You're being stupid."

"I think I'm the only one qualified to say that here," Axel replies, all condescension, and Roxas feels the string tying him to apathy _snap._

"You want to know, Axel. I'll tell you. Before you came...I was not happy, but I was not unhappy. Your presence here is tipping my balance and I still can't remember how it is to feel, but I think this new sensation might be jealousy."

"Jealousy...?"

"You're a blue-blood, still a child full of ideals; real life means very little to you. You've never killed anyone. You've never bought food with money made from blood. You've never injured a child in your care to hide her untamed magic from the authorities. You've never watched a lover die, knowing your attempt at curing her only killed her faster.

"Magic is an adventure to you, something fantastic you're privileged to practice. In the real world, magic is a cursed way of life. It's not something you do; it's something you are, and they hate you for it. I kill myself every night and cure myself every morning, just so Naminé doesn't have to suffer as I did."

"As you _do,"_ Axel says, tone and expression flat.

"No, Axel. I don't suffer anymore," Roxas replies. "I don't remember how."

He holds his hands over his stomach and focuses his energy, channels this new burst of feeling – whatever it is – into the block and removing it forcefully. He doesn't look at Axel, just as he doesn't acknowledge that it's unhealthy to do this to himself; Axel doesn't recognize boundaries, but Roxas is a ticking time bomb anyway. He just has to hold on until Naminé can take care of herself.

"Don't you?"

It doesn't matter.

He's supposed to be a doctor. He can fix this.

* * *

Axel is trying to lighten the mood with jokes that may be inappropriate for this age group, but Naminé holds tight to Roxas' finger and stares straight ahead, not acknowledging Axel's presence at all. Roxas kicks Axel in the shin, discreetly, and Axel – showing some kind of heretofore unrecognized sense of tact – shuts his mouth.

"Ah, Mr. Addy. You must be Naminé's guardian," says the harsh-looking young woman. Roxas immediately dislikes her.

Axel opens his mouth and Roxas kicks him again. "Yes, it's nice to meet you, Ms. Brown. This is my cousin and her part-time babysitter, Andrew Kelley. If I may, why have you asked us here?"

She smiles a bit and flutters her eyelashes – oh, _why _does he have to attract the stupid ones? – and replies, "I was just...concerned about Naminé's home life. She's very bright, but she's also quiet; she doesn't interact much with the other children, and she has been showing signs of..." delicately, she says, "abnormalities."

He clenches his fist, but puts a gentle smile on his face. "If you're talking about the glow, Ms. Brown-"

"Yes," she says quickly, eyes darting to the door.

Stupid woman.

Shaking his head, he says, reassuring and soft, "She was cursed by a rebel in the Imperial City – that's why we left. We were just in time to save her, but the curse forced a residue we couldn't remove when she was processed. If you look closely, you can see that I have the glow too; I was too old to be processed, but I never showed aptitude. Only the glow."

Axel, whose eyes have always been better attuned to Sight, gives Roxas a disbelieving look. In favor of kicking him, Roxas just shoots him a sharp look. A warning. Axel is not as stupid as he pretends to be, and says nothing.

"Oh, you poor things," she says, and Roxas feels like killing her. He doesn't like these new urges at all. He needs to get away from her, but now that she's brought up the magic...leaving now will look suspicious.

All that work on suppressing his glow has been a blessing of sorts. The thought isn't enough to take the urge away. It would be _so easy._

But he's a _doctor._

"It wasn't as traumatic as it sounded," he tells her. He almost enjoys the feeling of lying through his teeth, suddenly. It's a vindictiveness he hasn't previously considered. "We were along before that anyway; and now, we live in a much better place. Don't we, Naminé?"

She looks up at him, something like hurt in her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Axel lets out a snorting laugh and answers, "Kid, we're talking about how bad it was before you had regular meals and could come to this school."

"Oh. Yes, it...I got hurt a lot."

Roxas isn't grateful for Axel's interference. But intellectually, he knows he should be. So he makes the proper signals while Ms. Brown is staring at Naminé with something like pity. He wants to know what Naminé means by that comment, because this is the first he's heard about it, even after...

"Well, I..." The teacher flounders a bit, and he wonders what her initial plan was. To turn in two secret magic users? To score a date with the only unattached parent in her class? To investigate a worrying student? Not everyone has a hidden agenda. Not everyone has sinister intentions. She may be completely innocent and truly worried about her students.

Axel will be able to tell him, he's sure. Axel knows people, how to read them. He doesn't need to be physical to hurt them; in a way, he's more dangerous than Roxas is; he's hesitant to kill a person, but he can torture them into submission, into insanity, and he won't even realize the damage he's doing until it's too late. Roxas isn't grateful to him, but intellectually he knows he should be. So he resolves to be a bit more accommodating.

"Ms. Brown," Axel says, giving her some kind of flirty look Roxas wouldn't fall for in a million years. She seems to soften, and Roxas would like to be jealous enough to learn how to do it.

"Y-yes?"

"Nami's kind of...well, it's hard for her to talk about this, or hear about it. If there's nothing else, d'you think we could maybe take her home? It's past her bedtime anyway."

"Oh, of course," she says, making shooing motions toward the door. "I'm sorry for taking up your time; I was just worried, and..."

"It's quite all right," Roxas intones. "We're glad you cared enough to ask us here. Say goodbye, Naminé, won't you?"

She waves shyly to her teacher and immediately turns, tugging Roxas almost forcefully toward the door. He adds over his shoulder, "Goodbye, Ms. Brown."

He hears Axel say something or other, but he focuses on Naminé; on her face is an unusually dark scowl and her fist is tight around his finger. There is a tension around her he can't understand, but he thinks it may be because of the lying. Or because of her teacher.

He doesn't dare to say anything to her. He blocks out Axel's comments and focuses on his feet; left, right, left, right, left, one, two, three, four, five, avoiding the cracks in the street.

Breathing, inhaling and exhaling on left steps, and they're at home, but it's not very calming. He resists the urge to bunny-hop into the house like a spastic child, and instead lets Naminé tug him in. She immediately lets go and storms into her room, and Roxas watches her go helplessly. What is he supposed to do?

He watches the floorboards and his feet, left right, until he can knock at her closed door. Naminé _never _closes her door.

"I see you're counting again," Axel says, and Roxas doesn't recognize the tone, but it doesn't seem very pleasant.

"Shut up." He knocks at the door. "Naminé?"

"Go away, Roxas," she tells him. "Don't see me right now."

"I...okay," he replies, because he isn't going to force it. Naminé always has a reason, for everything she does, and she doesn't act out. This is more than just a temper tantrum. "I'll be in my room if you need me."

When she doesn't reply, he turns and watches his feet, left right, and enters his room, wishing away the redhead trailing behind him. He doesn't want to look.

But he does, and he's met with angry – he's never seen so much anger before – eyes.

"So," Axel says, "You'd better fucking _explain."

* * *

_

_**I didn't**_ want to have to do another author note, but I think this is necessary. I was dangerously close to discontinuing this; but after extensive consideration, I've decided to continue. This is largely in part due to axisfiraga, who supported me even when she heard the entirety of my in(s?)ane idea. Without her input, I would have just finished it in secret and taken down the first two chapters.

The direction of this story is still the same as before, but I'll probably be slower in updating than I first expected. I'm caught up in writing a new book and looking for a new job and finishing Candy Hearts and writing a series of minuets and possibly dying of Fail, that shady disease that affects your entire lifestyle. And going to Saboten-Con. Oh, and playing Twilight Princess. So, yes, I will finish; no, I will not have a set schedule. (Talk about cramping creativity!)

Next chapter, we get some explanations and definitions, of sorts. And some history. And maybe find out what the hell is up with the counting Axel mentioned.


	4. Occulus

I'm back from the con! It was fabulous, and I'm back to my writing. This chapter's shorter than I previously anticipated, because I need more time to put together the next section of the beginning and it wouldn't flow well if I chained them together. I hope you'll forgive me.

* * *

**Occulus**

Roxas is already standing, curses in the back of his throat, when Axel slumps through the doorway. He's lucky Roxas is quick enough to catch him. One of his arms hangs the wrong way and his sleeve is torn, but – that blood on his face –

He remembers another set of pretty eyes, another mangled body. Another lifetime. Glad Naminé is already in bed, he asks, "How many?"

"Two," is the reply, and relief is only bittersweet. Axel's supposed to be under his protection, and –

He doesn't marvel at how _selfish _people can be. Selfishness is a way of life.

Roxas knows this – knows that he would kill anyone, regardless of how it affected everyone else, if it meant keeping Naminé from harm – but he's always disgusted to see it in action. The entire population of worthless trash shoving each other to meet their petty desires makes him sick, and he's not ashamed of his hypocrisy.

Roxas' selfishness manifests differently than most others'. Axel's blood doesn't trigger the instinct to mother, or to call the authorities. Axel is _his, _and his blood triggers the instinct to kill the fuckers who tried to steal his property. Even as he helps Axel to the armchair and casts a distracted fire spell – his first in years – to help him see, his brain is stuck on _kill, kill, kill._

"What did they look like," he asks, voice low and delicate.

Axel has heard this voice exactly once before, when the professors stole Demyx as a test and told them HeartL.E.S.S. stole him to experiment. Roxas knows this is a dangerous place when Axel visibly relaxes, but he can't help it. Whatever's happening inside is calling for blood.

"I was more focused on defending my _face, _so I didn't open my eyes all that often. All I know is one of them had this weird scar on her hand. It looked like somebody took a rotary saw to her palm and somebody else botched a healing spell afterward."

Roxas falters at this, because he's seen a scar like that before, but she's _dead. _Killed by eight of the same...it isn't her. He held her in his arms as she died.

He blinks, clears his head, kneels before Axel and begins a diagnostic. He thinks he might regret staying silent when Axel demanded he explain. He thinks he should probably explain now.

"Those people who attacked you...they were Cosmagi."

When he looks up, Axel looks unimpressed. "The ones who handle cosmetic enhancements? I thought they usually stayed in their labs. Why would they just attack somebody on the street?"

"_I_ stayed in the lab," Roxas says, unable to look Axel in the face anymore. "Regular medicine didn't pay enough, so I...I didn't ask where they got the parts. I naïvely assumed they were synthesized, or donated, until my fiance was attacked by eight people going for her eyes, her hair, and her fingers. One of them was my assistant.

"She died in my arms; I couldn't save her. Even with all my training, I couldn't save her, because I...I couldn't control my panic. It was as though everything I'd ever learned just disappeared from my head. When I later questioned my assistant, he was very flippant and asked me where I _thought _the eyes came from. I killed him, but not before I removed his eyes and hands slowly and painfully. I shoved him in the furnace and left him to die. I donated him anonymously and swore off anything to do with the eyes."

"You quit your job, right?" Axel's voice sounds tight. Roxas doesn't know what it means, and he doesn't want to know, but he doesn't think on it too hard. He needs to keep his composure; something's there, threatening to burst from his chest, and if he lets it out he'll never reign it back in again Axel again asks, "Right?".

He hesitates, and then decides to tell the truth. "Not right away. It paid well, and Naminé's schooling was expensive. She was kicked out of school for doing a spell, so I quit my job, changed our name, and made up a cover story. This city's dangerous, Axel, and they hate magic when they don't need it or want impossible things. I should have warned you to never go out alone."

"I wanted to surprise you with groceries. You go out alone all the time," Axel mutters sullenly. Roxas thinks it's rather cute, and he's disgusted with himself for thinking it.

"I...oh." He sighs. "We all have...striking features, I suppose, but there is a lack of green and red here. Naminé and I would be in danger, but we are always under illusion spells; you have Sight, so the illusions never get past your eyes, but to everyone else, we are brown-haired, brown-eyed, and only attractive if you look closely. I'm so used to wearing it that I forgot to put one on you. Nobody around here wants brown eyes, since it's so common."

"I don't want to be under an illusion. I'm not in hiding."

Roxas scoffs. "You're stupid, then. You're on their radar; they'll come for you again. Green eyes are always in high demand. Trust me; I used to work in this field."

"I still can't believe you'd do that. You're...well, I can, but I can't reconcile the person you are now with the person I roomed with at the Academy."

"I did what I had to do," Roxas says softly, looking down. He can't look at Axel. "I always do. I don't have the luxury of shirking duties anymore."

"So..." Axel grabs his chin and makes him look up. It's unsettling and he has to restrain the wild freezing spell on his lips. "You kill people for a living. You don't even hesitate. You shoved aside your own – shaky – morals, you broke the law, and you killed your dreams to save your sister."

"I...suppose."

Axel doesn't let go, and he doesn't break eye contact. Roxas feels cornered and helpless and he hates it, but he can't do anything. He can't even finish his diagnostic. Axel's Sight is sucking him in – it's the one thing he's never been able to resist. The one thing that could control him, if Axel bothered to learn to use it fully. This compulsion is inadvertent, but it's so _strong..._

"Why did you leave?"

"Naminé," he breathes.

The hand on his chin squeezes painfully, and then relaxes. "Why did you leave _me?"_

"Because...you...there was..."

Then the hand leaves and Axel is so, so close. Roxas has to put his hand over his eyes to tear himself away from the trance.

"Because I couldn't trust you," he says bluntly, pushing Axel's face away. "You were a lying, manipulative bastard who betrayed whoever the hell he wanted. And aside from that, you were an arrogant asshole whose self-esteem was not grounded in reality."

He pushes his magic into Axel's body and frowns as the injuries take care of themselves – Axel's injuries are less serious than the pain Axel's in.

"You shouldn't be limping," he says, accusing. "Are you really that much of a wuss?"

Axel snorts and leans back. Roxas doesn't understand the look on his face – something akin to the sad, but strangely understanding, look Naminé gives him when he can't afford something she likes. "You gonna fix my eye, or what?"

"It will heal on its own," Roxas says, but what he means is _I can't.

* * *

_Axel and Naminé are practicing fire spells in the kitchen and Roxas thinks, _Mine. _He can not see any changes in them, or in himself; and he can not sense anything different about them. The logical explanation is that something has happened inside of him, but he doesn't know what it could be. But Axel is his, and Naminé is his, and now they are three.

Axel always does this. He wriggles in, and suddenly it's as though he always belonged there. He was 'just missing.' Roxas can't find it in himself to be annoyed, but he knows he would be, if he didn't have so much to do. If he had time for emotions.

If he remembered how to feel.

"You have to _feel _it," Axel tells her, too much emphasis and not enough explanation. As usual.

"I don't understand," Naminé complains. She reminds Roxas of his first attempts at concept magic – hit and miss, too much power and not enough control.

Axel makes an irritated noise; he's never been a fantastic teacher. He's too much like his preferred element. "Look, you know how you feel every time Miss Brown talks about magic?"

Naminé nods slowly. "I feel hot inside. And my tummy wants to throw up badness on her. But I want to just show her a good spell that helps people, and make her take it back."

"Exactly." Years ago, Axel's kind smile would have been a lie. Now, Roxas isn't so sure. "Well, the first part, anyway. That's what fire comes from. You feel that heat? That comes from a lot of different things, but it's most easily accessed by getting angry. So think about Miss Brown's history corner and try again."

Naminé's determined eyes close and her tiny fists extend fully. The unspoken fire spell is small and weak, but it's definitely fire, unlike the sickly sparks she produced before. Roxas isn't proud of her, but he's going to pretend he is, because he knows it's what he's supposed to do. Axel seems proud enough.

"That's my girl," he says in a whooping voice Roxas hates. He won't hit Axel for claiming Naminé as his, but he wants to.

"Congratulations, Naminé," he finds himself saying, and her smile is worth his discomfort. She never looks so happy as when she's done something others approve of.

"I did good?"

"You did _well," _he corrects. "You're better at this than I was."

It's not exactly the truth. She's young and her mind is malleable; she can learn more quickly than he could, because he started learning in middle school, but his spells were stronger and more devastating.

But he won't tell her that. He won't tell _anyone _that. He doesn't want to think about what his magic means.


	5. Key

This chapter is also fairly short, but now that Candy Hearts is complete, I can give this fic more energy. To be honest, I was so much more invested in Candy Hearts than I'll ever be in this; I'll finish it, and I'll do my best to make it as good as it can be, but don't expect a craze. I'm writing a novel, working, and training my body to start more training in February. These things are more important to me than fanfiction, which is basically just a hobby. But I promise to do everything I can to not disappoint.

This chapter is a mine of information. Dig some tunnels, see what gems you can find.

(And yes: Roxas' last name is totally stolen from my favorite _Bones _character. Zack Addy is the sexiest fictional male ever to grace my life. I'd have his babies, and I'm a gay woman.)

* * *

**Key**

The first thought is not _where, _but _when._

His head aches and his mouth is like a sewer. He's shackled to something behind him - not a problem; whoever caught him obviously doesn't know him - and beneath him he can feel a slight rumbling. Movement. Lying on his side, curled, it's easy.

He's in the trunk of a car.

But _when?_

He counts to eight, breathes, and tries to remember.

His opponent was easy, and then...it's incredibly difficult to recall. Memory suppressing sedatives? Only someone with major connections to the only pharmaceutical company left could access them. A city employee? No, that wouldn't make sense. Jobs are too rare and precious to risk on a kidnapping, no matter how valuable his skills are.

A rogue, then. There's no price on his head, so it can't be bounty hunters. He doesn't owe anybody anything, so debt collecting isn't logical either. What could anyone possibly want with him, and why couldn't they speak to him directly?

The car rolls to a gentle stop and the engine dies. He gathers up a little strength - enough to manipulate the lock, but not enough to set off any alarms they might have - and closes his eyes. He can't sense how many there are, so he needs to have surprise on his side.

There's a low hum and the trunk glides out like a drawer. One of the newer models, then. His captors have money. That's potentially good news; the more a person has, the more that person can be manipulated.

"He's still out," says a male voice. He doesn't recognize it, but now he can sense them; six in all. He's almost flattered.

"You're sure? I heard this kid was-" another male.

"This is no kid," says the first voice. "Adults are less resilient. Only a class-four could metabolize this amount in such a short time, and you saw the fight. He only used two ice spells."

He has to keep himself from smiling. He's technically a class-five, but there's no point in fighting with anything over a class-two value. Overkill is not enjoyable. He never realized it would give him leverage.

"I'm still not so sure," says a female. "Didn't you hear that girl scream before she, um. Died? It was..."

"She was weak. We are not. Are we going to transport him or not?"

"I'm not getting my hands dirty. He's probably riddled with street filth and viruses," says a second female. Blue-bloods, then. He hates them already. He'll sort them out when they realize a commoner can subdue them.

Someone comes forward and he takes the moment to pounce. He slits her throat with a wind spell before everything goes dark.

* * *

Waking is difficult, but he knows that he's not at home. This place feels new. He magically twists the bindings behind him, and feels a burning sensation course through him; he knows it will only get worse if he tries harder.

A voice says, "You passed your test. That is why you are alive. Open your eyes."

Roxas opens them, not so much out of obedience but out of curiosity. Who caught him?

He doesn't recognize the man in front of him.

"What," he begins, and swallows down his vomit. It's disgusting to talk. "Do you want with me?"

"To make a deal." The smile is disingenuous at best, malicious at worst. Roxas has perfected that smile, and returns it.

"What makes you think I want anything you have to offer?"

The man shrugs. "You get to keep your life, even if the other...perks don't interest you."

Roxas knows he needs to keep the man talking. He needs to look for cracks - weaknesses. "I don't really have anything to live for. No family, no friends, no future. Why would I care if you killed me now?"

It's a dangerous gambit, but Axel can take care of Naminé if worse comes to worst. In the five weeks he's been staying with the family; he's won Naminé's heart; they'd get by. Axel's good at surviving in places he shouldn't be, and as much as Roxas doesn't want to admit it, he'd be a better parent to Naminé. Axel has a maternal streak in him Roxas has never been able to replicate.

"Perhaps you won't. Perhaps your little sister and your new friend don't matter much to you." So he knows about Naminé. He has to change tactics. "But, if you do these few small favors for me…I can give back something that was stolen from you."

He blinks. "What exactly do you want me to do for you?"

"Well, I find myself in need of a…new identity, so to speak. And so does my worthless partner, though he doesn't know it yet. People need to be eliminated, paperwork needs to be forged…you know, simple things."

He can't help but laugh in the back of his throat. The taste makes him sick. "You want to hire a hit? Or a surgeon?"

"Both, ideally," is the reply. "I've been watching you. Roxas Addy, formerly Keigh. One small sister, who attends a private school; one new addition to the household, a redhead who looks related to the Families. You sell lives on the street corner during the day; you take them in the ring at night. You've worked as a Healer; as a Cosmage; and as a freelancer. You went to school-"

"I know who I am," Roxas says irritably. "Who are _you?"_

"You can call me Ansem, but I don't advise it in public. People might talk."

He feels his stomach drop. Ansem. The most powerful man in a thousand-mile radius. Aside from the Families, the most powerful man in the entire country. Roxas thought…Ansem was supposed to be a good man. _Ansem the Wise. _Roxas gave up on goodness a long time ago, but this revelation rocks his reality anyway.

"Oh," he says dumbly.

"You have to understand," Ansem says, "these people are bad. I am doing everyone a favor by eliminating them. I only have the country's best interests at heart. And they are a common enemy of ours, Sora."

"Roxas," he says. "My name's Roxas."

"Yes, it is now, but it won't be forever."

This hits a nerve Roxas didn't realize was there. "Yes it will…I might work for you – if you convince me – but I won't just give up who I am. I worked hard for it. _Roxas Addy."_

Ansem grins widely and Roxas feels…thoroughly violated. "Eventually, you'll understand the truth. You _are _Sora. You didn't think being an avatar meant you _were _magic, did you? Is that what they told you at that academy of depravity?"

"I will _not _accept that," Roxas spits, suddenly furious. _Avatar. _That word stirs up things he forgot how to feel. They told him he was magic's avatar. That he was destined to serve the Elite. That cultivating an identity was pointless, because he was a tool – a key of destiny. The key to domination. "I'm _gifted. _I'm not destined for _anything. _I'm _not _who you say I am, and my _name _is _Roxas."_

"Okay," Ansem agrees, and Roxas would like to hit him. But he's not stupid enough to try anything.

"Besides," he says, and it's an almost pointless addendum but it makes him feel better, "Sora's the Keyblade Master from the legends. His name is sacred. It's highly unlikely that he's walking around today."

"Okay," Ansem says again. Then he claps, all business. "How much do you hate Organization XIII, _Roxas?"_

* * *

Roxas counts to thirteen before knocking on his own door and feels vaguely like a criminal. Years of killing for money and only _now, _as he's trying to do the _right _thing, does he feel guilt. It's a feeling he doesn't want.

Axel looks seven parts relieved and one part angry as he pulls Roxas inside and closes the door – gently, and Roxas supposes Naminé is already asleep, or at least in bed. He finds himself slammed against the wall, and he doesn't bother to throw Axel off. Guilt again.

"Where _were _you?"

He doesn't want to say _I got kidnapped, _even though it's true. Instead, he says, "Somebody had business with me and…saw fit to force me into the agreement by restraining me and threatening me?"

It almost _is _a question. Now that he's home, it all seems so farfetched. Like a vivid dream he's trying to explain.

"So you got kidnapped and tied up for three days," Axel sums up dryly. He doesn't let go. A traitorous part of Roxas' mind is glad for it.

"That sounds bad," Roxas tells him. "It apparently took six of them to take me down, but I killed one of them. They were _your kind." _He doesn't mean to sound accusing, but he almost is. "Blue-bloods. Not as highly ranked as the Families, but high enough that they were worrying about dirtying their hands by touching a commoner."

Axel winces, and blinks four times; Roxas feels something akin to vindictive pleasure. He ignores it in favor of blinking four times to make up for Axel's numerical disaster. "You know I hate those guys."

"All I know is that you're here with me. Should I trust your motives, Axel? Should I worry about the Coats turning up to take Naminé away from me?"

He's shoved into the wall again, but not as harshly. "How could you even _ask _that?"

"I _have _to. My entire _world _has been threatened. I need to know this. Are you still part of Organization XIII?"

Axel steps away completely, and he scratches the back of his head twice. Roxas resists the urge to scratch it three more times; it's just a stupid urge. "They…pretty much disbanded after you left. Xemnas tried to keep it together, but they lost something. A tool? A key? I didn't really get what they were talking about, but I wasn't even interested. You were the one who kept me there, and after you left, the entire thing just seemed stupid."

"You're either uninformed," Roxas says slowly, "or you're full of shit. Either way, you're now on a tentative threat list. You should know that I won't hesitate to kill you, should I find out something unsavory; I advise full disclosure. I'll forgive secrets once, but not twice."

Axel looks down and Roxas' stomach sinks. "Look, it's true. Xemnas keeps trying to revive the Organization, but after you left, Xion got committed. She had…two personalities or something. Then this potential recruit, Laura or Laundry or – Larxene, I think it was – she dropped off the radar completely, so that was a bust. Anyway, we were down two members and they keep looking for this tool. I was asked to come and try to convince you to come back, but I was looking for an excuse to get out anyway. I might be a traitorous asshole when I need to be, but I never stopped loving you."

He ignores the mention of his dead fiancée, because he can't afford to think about her right now. "So you're _not _affiliated with the Organization."

Warily, Axel asks, "Where are you going with this?"

Roxas clenches his fist instead of punching Axel's stupid face. "Just answer the question."

"Officially?" A shrug. "Yes, but when it comes down to brass tacks, it's about you. If you're loyal to the Organization, I am. If you're not…well, I'll follow you."

He should be flattered. But he's almost disgusted. Axel…can't love someone without a personality. If what Axel says is true, then he fell in love with sex, and that's…pathetic. "Good. Then you're going to help me carry out my new duties."

"And…what are those?"

"We are going to destroy the Organization," Roxas tells him lightly. But he can't bring himself to look in Axel's eyes.

* * *

Sometimes it felt like the magic was forcing him to change into something he didn't want to be. He would forget where he was; he would forget who his friends were. Xemnas explained that it was imperative that he learn to control every aspect of himself, so the magic would only do exactly what it was told.

When the magic got hard to control, he'd count. There were good numbers and bad numbers; there were important numbers and tedious numbers; and he'd count until the feeling went away.

The one time he forgot to count, he woke up in Twilight Town amongst a crowd cheering for him – no. For _Sora._

He never forgot after that. Counting was a way to assure himself that he was still there. Five, eight, thirteen, twenty-nine; the numbers of existence.

That magic, which called itself Sora, never stood a chance.


	6. Soul

I'm not sorry for the wait; I would rather produce a quality chapter after a lengthy period of time than a crappy chapter in order to satisfy my readers. You can take this as a promise: it may take a while, but I won't do this half-assed. I have too much professional pride.

Warning: Roxas being creepy. Axel being a bitch. Violence, both domestic and professional. Averted pregnancy termination, and a discussion of morals I don't necessarily support. Roxas losing it a little. An inordinate amount of sentence fragments. So, basically, the usual.

* * *

**Soul**

It's midnight and his heart is pounding ferociously. He needs to hurt – _destroy – _needs to empty himself of feeling. He needs to transfer his panic into someone else. He promised Axel he would stay away from the ring, but…

His clothes are on before he can properly reason through this. Reason has escaped him, and he can't grab hold of any particular thought; only ideas.

_Destruction._

_Blood._

_surgeon hit man kill kill kill_

Something deep inside of him is desperate to escape and he can't let it. But it's fighting with Sora. He can't let Sora take over either. He can't let Ansem the Wise Manipulator intimidate him into becoming what he isn't – what he can overcome. Sora is _not _his destiny. Sora can never win against –

Sora wouldn't murder for profit.

He lets the wordless spell take him to another place. He takes his own appearance, dropping the glamour disguise, and signs his name. Breathes. Waits.

"Aw, man," someone grumbles behind him. "Artemis is here, but I already bet on Merlin."

"Maybe if you paid more attention," someone else says. "Artemis comes here on the nineteenth of every month and decimates everyone. I was worried he wouldn't show."

Roxas can't smile, but he feels a deep satisfaction – a much welcome change from the panic. He counts his breaths and distorts the sound around him to create a rhythmic applause. Distortion.

Blood.

_Kill._

Now he smiles. Sora can't get him here. Not while he's Artemis. Not while he's hunting to kill.

Time is a blur. Blood and screams and fear and _kill _and _doctor isn't here today _and giving injections. Needles of light. Angel of death.

He'd like to savor this. But Sora is fighting again, desperate to stop. He needs to do _more, _to kill someone worthy of being killed. To force Sora to watch his antithesis in his element.

"Final match," the announcer shouts into the microphone. It's certainly a show here. Everything is for show. The blood…the brutality…the magic tricks. The crowd will never know about the underground room for secret survivors. The crowd loves death.

Artemis can kill with a blink of his eyes, but that would be no fun at all. The crowd would be displeased. His own blood would be displeased.

He steps into the ring and faces a tall redhead with fierce green eyes. They are Axel's features, but that's not true; Axel is home with Naminé. He doesn't even know where the fights take place. And Axel would never hurt Roxas, even if Roxas happened to be somebody else.

The signal is given and the redhead reacts, drawing a sword and jumping back. Weapon magic, then. Not typical, but easily overcome with the right tactics. He'll drag it out. Dance with the boy. Artemis is a hunter.

Roxas hunts for sport.

He doesn't call his blades to him, yet; instead, he whispers, "Nox."

The lights go out. The only light now is this Merlin's high-powered fire spell, which is exactly what Roxas was aiming for; _you can't see me but I can see you._

The fire whips around his target, who stays silent.

Breathe.

Wait.

He calls his blades and goes in - not for the kill, but for the dance. Merlin is quick on the uptake, with honed instincts and quick reactions. He fights like Axel fights, like...like a noble.

How charming. He laughs involuntarily, gaining satisfaction with every clang, with every spark. But laughing...

Suddenly he's on his back.

Blade. Against his throat.

He once heard a man say a person is most honest when they're about to die; that they find out what they're made of. Roxas always thought he'd have regrets. That he'd resent death. But he doesn't. He thinks it might be relieving - free of Sora, free of all bonds. He has nothing to live for.

He

"Do you"

Has nothing

"Surrender,"

To

_"Artemis?"_

Live. Live for...

What...

There has to be something to live for. He has to find it. There has to be _something _more than this...this...

Quiet.

"Lux Æterna," he spits, and grins through a mouthful of blood as Merlin pales. No escape. Resistance is futile.

He hears someone retch in the stands, and someone screams pitifully. Otherwise, there is uneasy cheering and he can taste their nerves, electric and heady distress. Light bursts from the inside, spreading bits of his opponent into the air around him.

Roxas laughs and turns his face up to catch the shower. Sora.

Sora.

Sora is gone.

* * *

Axel is not asleep; he's sitting on the couch with a cup of tea, glowering like only he can. Axel's eyes are the most dangerous part of him.

Roxas hadn't thought of the repercussions, but now he knows secretly going to the ring was a bad idea. Not cleaning up before shadow-walking home was a worse idea.

"We talked about this," Axel says.

_"You_ talked about it," Roxas replies, suddenly inexplicably defensive. Just because it was a bad idea doesn't mean he did anything _wrong. _"Why aren't you asleep?"

"You were supposed to pick up Naminé from her playdate with Sarah." He frowns. Roxas almost looks at his feet. "When you didn't, I worried you got kidnapped again."

Roxas isn't very socially aware, but he knows enough to know that Axel wasn't worried. Axel knows he can take care of himself. "Well, I didn't, so you can just-"

Axel stands and yells without yelling, "Dammit, Roxas, I _told _you to stop going! It's bad for Naminé and it's bad for you. What if you don't come home? Huh? What if next time you fight a class-four? What-"

"I'm a class-five, so it doesn't matter," he says sourly. Axel doubts his skills, and that stings more than it should. He feels no vindication when Axel pales. "This is my job. I have bills to pay and another mouth to feed! Besides, So-"

"You know I can pay for things too; I have lots of money. If-"

"Yeah, and bring down _your kind _to check out who you're going around with. I trust nobles as far as Naminé can throw them."

"I'm a noble." Axel makes a face Roxas can't read. "We're caught up on bills. Why did you go? Are you _trying _to get killed?"

Roxas can feel himself deflating. He'd like to sit down, but he's still bloody and he still hasn't healed himself, and blood is almost impossible to get out of the couch. He tries to muster up a caustic, crude retort and mostly fails. "Sora was trying...and I...I'm not a Cosmage anymore! Ansem can go fuck himself and don't tell me they're not looking for me, because I heard you on the phone with Xemnas and _Sora was trying to get out. _Do you have any idea what that's like?"

Axel blinks. "Sora?"

"I need to clean up and heal myself," Roxas says, suddenly oddly shy about the topic. "Go to bed. We can talk, or argue, or whatever in the morning when I'm not bleeding."

He doesn't wait for a reply; he also doesn't feel surprised when he hears Axel coming after him.

* * *

"Roxas," she says. "Roxas, wake up!"

"Naminé?"

It's too early to be awake. The sun hasn't even started reaching through the curtains yet, but Naminé is fully dressed, shaking him. "Get up, get up!"

"I'm up." He swings his feet over the side of the bed and winces – he's in pain from last night. The fight with Merlin took more out of him than he thought. "What's going on?"

"Lark was in my room."

The world stops for a moment and he has to support himself on his thighs. This doesn't make sense. "Are you…was it a dream?"

"No," she says forcefully. "In my dreams Lark has the same eyes. Not glass ones."

"Glass…eyes…"

She can't pronounce Larxene; she has always struggled with the _x _sound, but the preceding _r _makes it more difficult. She also has a very good memory; she could probably describe every detail of Larxene's face. She knows Larxene is dead. She _doesn't _know that she lost her eyes, that he was too weak to save her.

"They were dead. Don't make me go back." It's a plea, even though it doesn't sound like one.

"You can stay in here," he says. "Come under the covers. I'll go get your crayon, okay? Just close your eyes. I'll be right back."

She says, while climbing onto his bed, "Hurry."

He takes a deep breath and steps out of his room. The hallway is dark; the edges seem to curl, like the very shadows are alive, and the door to Naminé's room seems to pull him closer. He knows it's an illusion created by feelings he refuses to let surface, but it's very unnerving all the same.

He flips the light switch and sucks in a breath. On Naminé's nightstand, beside a half-empty glass of water, is a little blue knife and a note: _He wants a word._

How _sick._

His heart is in his throat and he braces himself against the dresser, but he doesn't pause for long; Naminé is scared by something real and if some Larxene lookalike is creeping around the house, he won't leave her alone for long. He should probably wake Axel too…

"What's going on," Axel says from the doorway. Roxas clutches Naminé's stuffed crayon to his chest and waits for his head to clear – why is he so jumpy? He's fought dangerous criminals and been kidnapped, after a fashion. Why is the thought of a dolly so alarming?

"Naminé saw Larxene in here, but I thought it was a dream. It wasn't. I don't know exactly what she saw, but it's dangerous…I was going to wake you, but it seems like you heard the noise. Did you see anything?"

He looks at Axel, whose hair is comically ruffled, and feels a little better. It's silly to feel reassured by his presence; his strengths lie in his eyes and his words, both of which are useless on a dolly. Axel isn't very physically strong, and he's not particularly good at fighting others; if some intruder were to attack, Roxas would have to protect both Axel and Naminé. But he feels reassured anyway.

"No, I just heard someone scratching at my door. I thought it was maybe Naminé. Who's Larxene?"

"My…" He pauses, trying to find the right words. "…Ex," he says finally, though it tastes like a lie. Perhaps because it is.

"And she's dangerous? Like a stalker?"

Roxas laughs harshly. "No, she's dead. I think Naminé saw a dolly."

"Oh god."

"Yeah."

There's silence for a moment before Axel whispers, "Is it still in the house?"

"I don't know, but…I have to stay with Naminé. If it left the note in her room, they obviously want her involved, and…I don't want that. She's a little girl. She shouldn't have to live near any of this."

"Yeah, I _know," _is the reply, and Roxas chooses to ignore the stab at his most recent outing.

Instead, he flips off the light again and feels Axel draw closer to him as he leads the way back to his room. He clenches his fist, crumpling the note around the handle of the little knife, and murmurs, "Lux."

Naminé's pale skin reflects eerily off the small light, but she's alive and unharmed. He can't sense any other presence.

"Is Axel sleeping here too," she asks. "Is Lark hurting him with the new eyes?"

"I…yeah," Roxas says. He can't see Axel's expression, and he's sure he doesn't want to. Axel may complain, but Roxas won't take no for an answer; it's not about being comfortable anymore. Safety comes first, and without knowing if the dolly has disappeared, they're both safer with him.

"What? No, I-"

Pointedly, he says, "Axel, do you know what a dolly _does?"_

"Never mind, I'm staying here too, kid," he says quickly, climbing to the other side of the bed so Naminé can sleep between them. Roxas is hesitant about letting Axel sleep by the window, but if the dolly is still in the house, the threat is the bedroom door.

His contempt for Ansem rises a little more. Only a sick man would send a dolly to a child, and the form he gave it is even more twisted. Ansem may be wise, but wisdom is wasted on people who use it to terrify little girls in the middle of the night.

* * *

The sun is inordinately bright – or perhaps he just expects the weather to match his mood. Naminé's therapist would have called it a subconscious projection. She was also assigned to Naminé's case because the City decided she must have some kind of disorder – at _four – _because she didn't seem traumatized by the deaths of her parents.

Roxas hates City officials almost as much as he hates the sun. It's almost comical that he's a light mage who prefers the darkness.

There's a woman in a hooded cloak stalling by the window of Accessorize!, the trendy jewelry shop that shut down a few years ago. She feels familiar, but he can't place her energy. He stares at her pointedly and beckons to her.

She complies with his silent request.

"Hello, Roxas," she says, and he can feel something bursting in his chest.

"Xion," he breathes.

"You're looking terrible," she observes in her usual blunt manner. God, he's missed her so much. She was the only reason he might have stayed, but she encouraged him to escape.

"You're looking modest," he returns, trying to call a smile to his face. It doesn't work.

She shrugs. He can barely see her mouth under her hood as she says quietly, "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm…not supposed to be anywhere. I designed this cloak to mask my signature."

He blinks. "I picked up on you; I just couldn't place you. Now I know why."

"You were always special, Roxas," she says, leaning forward slightly. He wants to kiss her, but he's learned from raising Naminé that sex and violence are not the only ways to connect with a person. "You're better. Where's Axel?"

"I dunno, I think he's looking for a job."

"What? Why? He has all the money he'd ever need for three lifetimes."

Roxas laughs hollowly. "Yeah, but that won't do us any good. We don't want to be found…how did you find us? Why are you here? Not that I'm upset or anything, but Axel said you were…"

"Institutionalized, right?" Her laugh is not amused at all. "Yeah, that's what they told him. That's what they told Demyx too. And Marluxia. The only people I could trust thought I was crazy. But I'm _not, _Roxas, I promise. They had me in that castle making…seeing. I don't have Sight, like Axel does, but I have _The _Sight. You know that."

"And they exploited you when I left," he surmises, feeling what he's sure is anger boil up inside him. Ansem's offer looks tempting, even after everything. "How did you escape?"

"They put Demyx on guard duty."

He tries not to laugh; he knows that must have been complicated for her. He knows her well enough to know that she'd be torn between the man she loves and escaping what Organization XIII likes to call 'fate,' but is just control.

"It's okay," she says, and finally throws her arms around him. She still smells like that fruit he's never been able to place. "I missed you so much. I'm glad I found you…for all your complaining about illusions, you're very good at using them. Even with my visions I had a hard time locating you."

He doesn't want to let go, but he can see a customer approaching. He can always tell a customer from a curious passerby; it's in the eyes and in the body. An apprehensive tension. They don't want a magic solution, but they'd rather use magic than go without. Selfish cretins.

"Um," says the boy. He looks to be about seventeen, and a quick scan tells him the kid is healthy.

"Yes?"

"I have money."

"Congratulations."

Xion snorts behind him and he feels like kicking her, but that's unprofessional. She's also the type to kick him back, unlike Axel who deludes himself into loving a lie. He's too sore to deal with it today.

"No, I…I need a spell. My girlfriend, she has…you know, a…"

He frowns in confusion. "An STD? Look, I don't really-"

"A _baby." _The boy shudders. "She'll be a horrible mother and I'm not ready for a baby. I can't…they say you fight sometimes. They say you're sometimes at the ring. You're a magical doctor, right? You can-"

"No," he says coldly.

"But – I'm afraid!" The boy scowls at what must have been an unintentional outburst and continues, "Look, my dad was a douche who ran out on us, and I won't do that to this kid, but…Angel's going to be…she's crazy, medicine man. I love her but she's so fucking crazy and I'm afraid she's gonna fuck up the kid because she can't handle things. If we don't get rid of it now, it's either going to be snatched up and spat out into the system, or abused by its mama when she can't remember…and…"

"It's not that I don't want to help you," Roxas lies. He doesn't care either way; sob stories do nothing to motivate him. Money is money, but the clients are inconsequential. "I'm not licensed to do that kind of thing. Magic doesn't just do what you want; you have to learn how to work with it. I never bothered with obstetrics and I _certainly _don't know how to flush a baby out of a person's system without hurting the mother in the process."

"But I have nowhere else to go," the kid whispers, holding out a wad of bills. "We won't tell anyone, I swear. I'll even pay you double your usual rate."

Roxas opens his mouth to refuse again, but Xion steps in. "He really can't do it, kid," she says. "I can, but I want the cash up front and you don't tell anyone who helped you. Understand?"

He briefly wonders where her credentials came from, but then he realizes she probably uses her visions to pass tests. She probably hasn't opened a textbook in her life.

Is she really okay with this? She used to say that children were the most important things in the world, and anyone who would kill a child deserved to be drawn and quartered.

But this is a mercy killing. Left to her natural parents' care, the baby would grow up at best unbalanced and at worst abused; letting the City take the baby would be a death sentence for it anyway. Orphans don't live very long in the system.

Still, what is she thinking?

"Y-yeah," he says nervously. "Um…"

"Just lead the way. And Roxas," she adds, grabbing his hand briefly, "say hello to Axel for me, will you?"

For reasons beyond his comprehension, he is completely nauseated.

* * *

Naminé has not forgiven him for leaving her at Sarah's the day before. Sarah is her only friend; a little ballerina in the same class as a little girl three houses down the street. She is also a spoiled girl with doting, overprotective parents who hate magic. Naminé has never felt comfortable in their home.

Axel assures him that she will be over it soon; after all, she did seek him out when she saw Larxene. But Roxas can't believe it. He knows he doesn't let go of a grudge easily; it's why he's torn between helping Ansem to get back at the Organization, tipping off the Organization to get back at Ansem, and skipping the country with his family and leaving the two forces to deal with each other.

His family. Somehow he's included Axel in that picture, and Roxas is surprised at how little it bothers him. If he could trust Xion, he might include her as well.

"You're thinking too loudly," she says from behind him. He didn't even feel her coming out the door. It's the cloak; he knows she needs to wear it to mask herself from the Organization, but it's one of the reasons he doesn't trust her. It could be an impostor with a likely back story.

"You can't hear thoughts," he replies absently. "No one can, even with a spell. It goes against-"

"Natural law, blah-blah-blah," she finishes quietly, sitting on the step next to him. It's sunset and the back porch is the best place to sit if he wants to see it. Axel is inside teaching Naminé how to light a candle with a blink of her eyes; she has taken to fire magic like Roxas never could. He envies Axel.

"You know it's true."

"Yeah." She nudges his shoulder with hers. "I also know what you're feeling. Empathy is real, and since I know you so well I can guess what you're thinking. You've never felt this strongly in the whole time I've known you. What happened?"

"Everything. Nothing." He rubs his forehead. "Have you ever felt…trapped by your magic? Like the cost far outweighs the benefit, and you would be better off not having it?"

"Never," she says thoughtfully. "You really shouldn't be feeling this way. It's a part of you, Roxas, like your voice…no, that's not right. It's more like your penis. You can cut it off, but you were born with it."

He makes a face. "That's the crudest thing I've heard you say. Who are you to be telling me what I should and shouldn't feel, anyway?"

Xion laughs lightly and touches his face. Startled, he looks directly into her eyes and can't look away. "I know because you're not completely you. Something has…tainted you. I figured you knew that, but I guess this feeling is how it's manifested."

"I'm not _tainted."_

"I can feel it in you. I can _see _it in you. In the way you walk, in the way you talk. Don't you remember yelling at Xemnas that you wanted to be a doctor – he and his little machinations could go to hell, because you refused to waste your talents on some recon job that involved killing babies?"

"Of course I remember," he says, and then the gravity of her words hits him. "Why did you…"

"I didn't," she assures him. "I simply transferred the baby. The new woman thought she was infertile; she was, but now she'll have a little girl. As for the real mother, I planted a spell. She'll never have children."

"You would meddle that much? That's against every code. Every last one."

She shrugs. "You're the doctor, not me. But trust me, you would have done the same thing if you'd met her. When that kid said she wouldn't be a good mom, he was making light of a situation. Her head was a mess; even a trained, experienced mind-healer couldn't come close. I could feel it all. There's a mental breakdown, and there's true insanity. Her genes are in her children; they need someone who can be alert and engaged when the symptoms start cropping up. I'm sure she's a lovely girl on her own, but children are…children are our future and deserve to be treasured."

"Still."

"I believe in a mother's choice," she says softly, taking his hand, "but you know very well people like us don't have the right mindset to truly terminate an innocent life. Logic can't wipe a conscience, not forever. I wouldn't interfere with the process, if it was done by someone else, but I scanned him for lies. We really were his last option, and I wasn't going to condemn that baby to a life of…you know…what we had."

He doubts his childhood was ever as bad as she imagines, but he doesn't correct her. It has never worked before. "I understand. I agree, on some level, but I kill people on a regular basis and I never feel guilt. Not for killing them, at any rate."

"Axel," she guesses. He nods. "He's good for you, isn't he?"

"He's a nuisance. An overprotective nuisance who can't back up his words. He's a better fighter than an average civilian, yes, but-"

"Is it all about fighting to you? Is that how you define strength and character? I ask again. What _happened _to you? It's like you don't even exist anymore."

"Maybe I don't," he says, watching the last of the light dip below the horizon. He waits for the single moment of twilight – the single moment of inner peace. "Maybe I never did. Maybe I'm supposed to be Sora after all. Maybe I don't feel remorse because I'm not me; Roxas is just a construct until Sora-"

"No." Her tone of voice dries up any words he might be able to say. "They messed you up, didn't they? That Sora thing…you can be whoever you want to be, Roxas. Sora is the warrior inside you, but not the medic. Sora of Legend could never fine-tune his magic enough to create an illusion or power a house illegally. He could stop time, but he couldn't manipulate it. He could decimate you in a fight, but not now."

He frowns at her. "What?"

She clears her throat. "Look, I'm not supposed to talk about my visions of the past. It's against the law. So just trust me when I say you're not the same person; you're just intertwined. You pick your own fate. If you feel like you're becoming Sora, and I know this is your real issue no matter how much bullshit you throw over it to convince yourself otherwise, it's because on some level…you want to be him. You want them to be right."

He's silent for a moment, looking at his hands. White sparks illuminate them for a brief moment. "Naminé won't speak to me. I asked her about the dolly she saw last night and she looked right past me. Tell me…would Sora be a better brother? At this point that's the most important thing, right?"

"Wrong." Surprised, he looks at her again, and starts when he realizes her hood is down. He can see every detail of her face in the glow of the porch light. "The most important thing is making sure you can accept who you are. Maybe Sora would be more compassionate. Maybe he would be able to understand a child, because he had the opportunity to be one. But if you decided to be him, he wouldn't be much help to her. You're the one who loves her, who would be willing to give up his existence for her. Axel's here now. You don't have to do this alone. And you don't have to worry; she loves you. She's already forgiven you; she's just as stubborn as you are. Remember, _Axel's here now."_

"Are _you_ here now," he asks tentatively. He's honestly afraid of the answer, and he can't decide which answer would be worse.

"As long as you'll have me," she says, squeezing his hand tightly. When he realizes he missed twilight, it seems so inconsequential. Xion is holding his hand, Axel is safe, and Naminé will forgive him.

Sora doesn't need to interfere. He doesn't know if he has subconsciously accepted it, but for now, he doesn't want to think about it. Axel once said too much thinking always got him into trouble; Roxas scoffed then, but maybe he was right.

* * *

Of course he had been naïve to think that Axel would let his recent trip to the ring slide from memory. He had thought – hoped – that Xion's abrupt appearance would force the issue out of Axel's mind, but it had been stupid to expect forgetfulness from someone whose catchphrase was _got it memorized?_

"We talk _now," _Axel says, forcing eye contact. Roxas knows he has to escape the thrall; Axel doesn't know how far his power reaches, but he will if he knows he can bend Roxas' will with eye contact and a word.

It gives him a splitting headache, but after several moments, he breaks the connection and keeps his eyes firmly on the finger painting Naminé brought home a few days ago. "I have nothing to say."

"Of course. Of course you have nothing to say. You never say anything; not in your defense, not to brag. It's like you don't even care. If I threatened to leave right now, you still wouldn't say anything, would you?"

"Are you threatening," Roxas asks, almost alarmed.

"No. You know I can't do that," Axel says bitterly.

"Technically you can."

"Technically you're a genius, but that doesn't keep you from being stupid." Axel stands and paces. "It's like you can't see that your actions affect other people. You're in your own little world, where everything is so bleak and disturbing. Yeah, I get it, your whole life has been manipulations and lies and _I was a part of that _so of course you don't trust me, but even Xion sees it. The world is not as bad as you think it is, which means you have no reason to just go off and fight until you're dead."

"I know that," he says, still staring at the picture. It's a vague blur of reds, yellows, greens, and blues – their little family, he realizes. "I…"

"Do you? Do you _really? _Is this you being honest, or are you just saying whatever you think I want to hear? Because I can't even tell with you. I used to know you. I used to get you. Then you left us – left _me –"_

"Shut up." Roxas stands and looks at Axel's lips instead of his eyes to avoid getting caught again. "I didn't leave you, I left the Academy. I left the little club we were in. You talk about it like it was this huge force, but it was just a stupid academic club-"

"It was the thing that drove you away, wasn't it? Away from _me _and into the waiting arms of some girl who couldn't even protect-"

Axel's words cut off as Roxas slams him into the wall. A vase crashes to the ground and Roxas ignores it. "I said _shut up. _Don't even _talk _about her, you stupid selfish-"

"Oh, _I'm _selfish?" Axel fails to push him off; despite their heights, Roxas has always been stronger and denser. He weighs more and has more motive. Roxas is _angry _and for the first time, he wants to hurt Axel for the sake of shutting his big mouth. Permanently.

"Yes, you are. You think I'm yours? You think you own me? You think you could have kept me away from my _soulmate? _Fuck you, Axel. _Fuck you. _Larxene was-"

"_Soulmate?" _Axel laughs derisively and then makes a gasping noise when Roxas drives his forearm into his sternum. Still, he continues, "You're…lying. Soulmates…you can't…impossible."

"You're _jealous," _Roxas says. If the situation wasn't so infuriating, he might laugh. "I can't believe it. You know we don't pick our soulmates, they just…happen. You want to know why the world is bleak? _Half of my soul is dead."_

"But…" Axel coughs. Roxas thinks he should ease up; but he can't. Part of him is enjoying this. Seeing Axel flounder like this. "You said I was yours…"

Suddenly he draws away, and Axel collapses. He should probably do a healing spell. But he's too shocked. Axel really thought they were soulmates? It had been a joke – a promise, even. Back when they were innocent kids sharing a dorm room in a shiny academy of magic. "It wasn't true," he whispers, and he doesn't feel guilty, but he does.

"I thought so, after you left us, but I couldn't stop thinking about you and I hoped if you saw me…"

"Are you joking?" He hopes Axel can see that he's asking honestly, not flippantly.

"No. I don't run away from myself like you do. I know who I am and I accept that _I'm in love with you, Roxas. _Maybe you had a…soulmate…" Axel pauses here and Roxas drops to his knees. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't stand, either. "…who wasn't me. Soulmates are destined souls are something, right? You didn't choose her. For someone who ran away to escape destiny, you sure put a lot of trust in it. Your heart belongs to _you. _And what we had? That was real. It was a choice."

He reaches out halfway, but stops. He doesn't know what to say or do. Axel has a point, but he also has no point. Roxas may not have chosen Larxene, but he loved her, and when she died his soul was pulled in two different directions. He was supposed to die with her, but Naminé came before even their bond.

Axel meets him in the middle and grabs his hand. "Look me in the eye and tell me it wasn't real."

Roxas shakes his head. "You know I can't do that."

"Then stop being a stubborn ass."

He shakes his head again, this time more firmly. "I'll never see you like I saw her."

"That's a good thing, seeing as I'm neither a woman nor dead." Does he have to be so indelicate? Softer, he says, "I don't care. If you don't want me, fine, but if you do want me, don't shut me out. Don't try and kill yourself. Don't go fight for a cause you don't believe in, and don't make Naminé grow up in this environment. If it means you have to do Ansem's dirty work, we need to get out of this. We can't have another dolly here."

He can see Axel shiver. He understands why; dollies, with their dead glass eyes and their human appearances, are puppets of their creators. They will see the end of a mission, even if it means killing everyone in their paths – and though they can be fought, they can't die. Escaping an assassin dolly is impossible.

"Axel, I…"

"Don't say anything that isn't true. I finally get why you hated the lies so much. Do you want me?"

Despite his misgivings, he nods. "I want you."

"Then stop going. You're the most capable fighter I've ever met, but even you aren't perfect. I don't want to lose you right after I just found you again."

"But…Sora…"

He doesn't know how Axel can look so mischievous when he's clearly in pain; Roxas moves his hand to Axel's chest and sends in green tendrils. "If he bothers you, come to me. You can count how many times you-"

"Stop right there." He's not embarrassed, but he is. "Naminé is-"

"With Xion at the park," Axel interrupts. "She said she saw something inappropriate happen here. I can guess what it was. If you hurry up and heal me, we can make it come true."

"That's not what I meant," Roxas mutters, but he knows it's a losing battle. Some part of him, which has awakened – or more accurately reawakened – in the last few weeks wants Axel in a less permanent, more physical way. He wants to be back inside Axel, even though he swore off anything Naminé couldn't see, other than the fights.

"Can't you hurry up?"

Roxas rolls his eyes. "Healing an injury is a delicate process. It's not like flushing a system of toxins or curing a disease; you have to be precise and-"

"Leave it, then." Axel forces his chin up and meets his eyes, and he's not sure if he _wants _to look away. "I want you to fuck me, really hard, _right now. _I'm tired of waiting."

Roxas nods dumbly. He can't break the thrall, not with Axel's hand gripping his chin, but even the medic in him has decided to skip out. Axel's mostly healed anyway, other than some light bruising, and –

"Yeah," he says. "Okay."


	7. Intent

This took forever, mostly because I've been busy but partly because Roxas is a little bitch who refuses to cooperate with me. I apologize to those of you who think I've slighted you in some way, but this chapter is dedicated to those who know what it's like to have a life outside fanfic, and actually care enough about this story to be glad it updated. As always, there is a madness to my method – I mean, a method to my madness – so please don't get upset if this chapter is less than straightforward. The tiny details drive this plot, and the rest of it is just…a large, irritating passenger with a habit of backseat driving and singing off-key to the radio.

ALSO: If you can, go give blood. Especially if you're type O – which is a universal blood type – or CMV negative – which means you haven't been exposed to Cytomegalovirus (a mild form of the herpes virus). They _really_ need people who are CMV negative to donate, because a) only 20% of the population is CMV negative, and b) only CMV negative blood can be donated to babies. Think of the children, dears. Think of the children.

* * *

**Intent**

* * *

Xion was not always a positive presence. In the fact, she was barely more than a face for the first three months, and for the next six they fought each other, vying for the top spot in their year. The teachers let their rivalry grow, assuming it would push them to be the best they could be, but Roxas could only see Xion's calm smile as she aced the theory exams.

Then there was Axel. Roxas remembers vividly the day his rivalry with Xion ended, and it was all because of Axel.

Because Axel stepped between them to break up their latest fight, and almost died.

It was the first time Roxas had ever worried about someone other than himself. He stayed at Axel's bed in the infirmary until he woke up, telling stories and putting homework into eight little stacks, and Xion – so afraid of losing her only friend she couldn't even understand the difference between vision and reality – apologized, to Roxas and to Axel and to people Roxas couldn't see.

When Axel woke up, they were inseparable, and it was Roxas who broke their bond in the end. He can't remember if he felt bad about it or not.

* * *

The little electric smile on her face would probably be embarrassing, if Roxas could dredge up that particular emotion, but it's not worth the trouble. Part of being friends with Xion is knowing that she knows more than she will say – more than she's _allowed _to say. If he's honest with himself, he knows he couldn't live like her. The visions would drive him insane.

"Axel's not dead, you're not gone, and there's no blood on the stove, so I'm guessing the fourth scenario is the correct one," she says. "Congratulations. Where is he, anyway?"

"Don't you know?"

She shrugs. "After you left, I made a lot of progress. I can control my visions to a degree, in order to preserve privacy. Besides, I could only see where he _will _be, not where he _is."_

"Grocery store," he replies. He won't say it, but he's proud of her. She achieved her goal.

Does he have a goal? Isn't a goal something to live for?

"Really? I thought he'd be…you know, laid up for a while."

Now he's embarrassed. Possibly. He can't quite remember what it feels like. "I'm supposed to be a doctor. And I don't want to lie if Naminé asks questions. Besides, it wasn't…like it was before."

Discussing his sex life with Xion is the last thing he wants to be doing, especially since the thought of last night brings a small smile to his face for no particular reason. It didn't solve anything; sex never does. But some small part of him wants everyone to know that sex doesn't have to be violent to be good, and Axel is more mature now so Roxas has a better idea of what Axel wants.

Besides. He has a feeling Xion will know anyway. Axel never could keep his mouth shut.

"I'm happy for you," she says, but something is wrong. He sends out a tendril of diagnostic magic and frowns at the result.

"What's wrong with your heart?"

She blinks. "My…heart?"

"There is something wrong with it, and I'm following it up to your limbic system…amygdala…frontal lobe…I've never seen a direct tie between the heart and the brain like _this_ before. It's different from nerves. How do you feel? Do you need to lie down? I could examine you further, and-"

"Roxas, I'm just missing someone," she says quietly.

"Enough to force a connection between two organs?"

"You know what happens when a soul bond is severed. My soulmate isn't dead, so half of me…"

"Ah." He looks at her thoughtfully. "I could close the pathways between the frontal lobe and the limbic system, if you like. That would help."

She shakes her head. "Sometimes it's better to feel the pain. It hurts so much, but…it's all I have left of him. At least this way, I know he was real." She gives him a different kind of smile. "Besides, I don't care how skilled you are; no matter how they're done, lobotomies are ookie. It's not that I don't trust you, I just don't trust _science."_

He gives her a scandalized look – or, at least he thinks he does – but doesn't press the issue. She's smart enough to know exactly what she wants and what's best for her.

* * *

Naminé won't look at anyone at all. Roxas is used to her avoidance of eye contact; it's something she's always done; but this is different. She's studying her blue and white shoes with intensity he's never seen from her.

He doesn't know what to say. There's something he should ask here, but it won't come to his mouth.

"Axel," he says quietly, turning slightly so he can speak more softly. "Why is she like this?"

"I don't know," Axel replies. Roxas notices Axel's quickening of breath and makes an internal note to find out if it's a proximity issue, or just a reaction to his volume.

"How do we find out?"

When Axel gives him a disparaging look, he suddenly feels three inches tall. He knows he's not a good parent, but he does the best he can and seeing this look, he wonders if he's only deluding himself. Would he have noticed at all had Axel and Xion not made their ways back into his life?

More and more, he thinks that perhaps keeping her was the wrong decision. He could have brought her to the Academy and continued with his studies, and she would have…

No. He may not be a good parent, but he's done a better job than anyone at the Academy could have.

"Naminé," he says hesitantly. She immediately comes toward him and stops just before his knees. From his position on the couch, next to Axel, he can see the top of her head and nothing else.

She says nothing. He sighs and asks, as gently as he can, "What happened?"

"My friend got stuck in the earthquake." He blinks – what? Before he can ask, Naminé continues, "She was going to teach me dancing but now she isn't here anymore."

He thinks she's crying, but he can't see and there's only a little water in her voice. He opens his arms anyway and, leaning forward, envelops her in a tentative hug. Physical affection is still difficult. Naminé goes limp in his arms and he pulls her onto his lap, trying not to make a face when the front of his shirt gets wet. Axel's hand goes into her hair and smoothes it rhythmically.

Facing Axel, he mouths, "What earthquake?"

Axel shrugs and says nothing. He'll get the details later; Xion will probably be able to tell him. But now, something is telling him to just stay quiet and let his sister cry.

* * *

The night is silent and the thick air makes his lungs heavy. Ansem must have a pet Seer – or at least a good Diviner – since his people are waiting for Roxas already. He can see the car even through the darkness and thinks Axel would call it a sex car.

Axel. He probably won't believe Roxas just went out for air, and Xion has already promised silence; she knows what sacrifices need to be made to keep Axel safe. Axel, and Naminé, and the little unit the three of them – now the four of them – have become.

Roxas needs an excuse, but he can't think of one. Perhaps a fight over the dangers of the ring might make Axel forget to check for the signs; better a broken promise than a broken soul.

"You're cutting it close," says one of the figures. His companion nudges him in the ribs, but says nothing.

"I wasn't aware I had a time limit," Roxas replies. It isn't necessary, but he feels like being as annoying as possible. Xion has rubbed off on him.

"And every day you avoid DiZ, the danger to your family increases. That isn't enough for you?"

Roxas has enough power in his little finger to obliterate this man, but he has to play nice. He gives his nastiest glare, but otherwise does not retaliate. Instead, he slides into the backseat of the car and clenches his fists. He wants to kill them all. He wants to kill Ansem and, if it will keep his people out of trouble, everyone else in this miserable city.

Naminé's little friend was killed in the Earth attack the City has deemed a terrorist act. It's already dangerous enough, with Cosmage Apprentices and drifting darkness…but he can't lose focus. He has a mission tonight and he will _not _let it fail because he can't keep his mind on the task at hand.

They arrive quickly. It's a new location, but he expected it; he also expects it to be empty when he visits tomorrow. He follows the silent one through the door and is a little startled to see Ansem immediately.

"So my people found you," he says.

"Or I found them," Roxas replies. Ansem's already getting under his skin.

"I seriously doubt it." Ansem smiles agreeably and Roxas has to bite his cheek rather than lash out. He's confident he could completely destroy the man, but if he wants his family to survive, he…_needs _Ansem, or DiZ, or whatever he's calling himself.

"That's not the point. I've decided to take you up on your offer, so…"

"So you will become Sora."

"I didn't say that." Roxas knows resistance is futile – but Xion can save him. If anyone can, it's Xion. And if she can't…then he isn't worth saving. "But yes, I will. In return for your promise-"

"You may think me a despicable creature – don't deny it, I'm not blind – but I am a man of my word. You will become Sora, and you will destroy Organization XIII, and when you have finished that, I will relocate those hearts you hold _so dear."_

Something about his wording worries Roxas. "What do you mean by _those hearts?"_

"I will not relocate impostors, of course."

Liar. Roxas can sense the change, but there is nothing he can do. "I'm prepared to do what it takes, then."

When the silent cloaked one sprays him with some kind of sedative, he feels a stab of actual panic; there are so many ways this can go wrong. Xion's plan might not work. She said there were so many possible outcomes…Seeing is never perfect, which is why so many Seers go insane. He understands that it wasn't hard for their old associates to believe she had succumbed to that particular madness.

Through the haze, he hears the cloaked one speak. "What will happen to Naminé?"

Ansem's answer chills him. "I _will _finish what I started so many years ago. The cycle has begun anew. Those without hearts…well. They may believe they have hearts, but she is just like Roxas. Just like _all of them. _You know the fate of a Nobody."

But then there is black.

* * *

"_Roxas, you have to do something."_

"_I know."_

_She took his hand and held it tightly. "You can't stop living. You have to…"_

_He tried to take his hand away, but her grip was stronger than he could break without hurting her. "What, find something to live for? There is nothing. When Larxene-"_

"_Roxas. Please. Find a dream. Find a goal. Find anything. And then act. I can see it all, and it's haunting me. Please don't let it come true. Please act, Roxas."_

_Her desperate plea made his skin crawl. She would never beg unless it was the only course of action._

"_You know what I'm expected to do. Don't tell me you didn't see it, because I know you did. How can I do that to us?"_

_Suddenly, she smiled. "Don't you remember? You're supposed to be a doctor."_


	8. Sora

This is the first of probably three chapters written in this style; there's a reason for the change, and it will go back to the original style once this part is over. I just wanted to let you know. Also, this part might be confusing, but don't worry, you'll catch on. It's not _that _weird. Thanks again to all who bother to read this shit.

* * *

**Sora**

The moment Sora arrived at the door, Axel knew. And Sora knew that he knew, but Sora also knew that Axel would never do anything to hurt him, because he was Roxas and because they had two lifetimes' worth of history. "Hey," he said, scratching his cheek and grinning. "I lost my key."

It wasn't a lie; Ansem had hidden the key somewhere and Sora'd had to escape without it. Ansem had made a mistake; he'd assumed Sora would agree with the plan, and Sora had let him believe it. But he remembered Ansem's _last _plan; it had destroyed his Nobody, Kairi's Nobody, Axel – who was a jerk, but also very important to Roxas – and countless others. All in the name of the greater good. Sora's own life had nearly been destroyed, and Riku…

Well. He'd never been the same after that.

"Come in," Axel said warily. Sora figured Axel probably saw his outline, or maybe even his face. From Roxas' memories, Sora had gleaned that the 'Sight' was an inability to see anything but the truth – and a form of natural hypnosis. Sora would be careful to avoid eye contact, but there was nothing he could do about the face.

Or maybe Axel knowing was a good thing; he didn't want to do what Ansem said. Ansem was as crazy now as he was last time. Maybe even crazier.

"Hey. Weren't you supposed to be-"

Without warning, Sora threw his arms around Axel's neck. Axel let out a rather unmanly shriek, but Sora didn't care. The echoes of Roxas in his heart and pounding of the new Roxas in his head wanted out, wanted to touch him – his heart asked, _is he real? _And his head demanded, _let me out, he's mine._

"What the-"

"I missed you," he said, and he wasn't sure who was saying it; Roxas Addy, the Key of Destiny, or Sora himself. He'd been stuck in limbo for hundreds of years, no contact with anyone except Kairi's various incarnations when they died. The world always needed a Princess of Heart. She could never stay with him, and she could never move on.

She was…here.

"Kairi?"

Axel pushed him off slightly and frowned. "Are you Sora?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that, but where's Kairi?"

"You can't just take over my…you can't take over Roxas' body and expect to be accepted here. Sure, you're some historical figure, but _fuck, _man. If some random girl took over your Kairi's body, would you still want her around or would you want your girlfriend back?"

"Hello, Sora," said a voice. Sora could hear there were differences, but…was it…

"Kairi?"

"No…not really. Sort of," said the girl. She was about Roxas' age, with short black hair pinned to one side and a black coat with a hood. She looked like Kairi would, if she were brunet and in the Organization.

"Then…"

"Xion, could you either back me up or go away? I'm kind of…trying to, you know…"

"He's not a threat to us. Are you, Sora?"

"Well, I guess it depends on what you're doing. If your plan is to blow up the world, yeah, I'm a threat. But I won't tell anybody who you are or why you're here, if that's what you mean."

"Come sit down," Xion said, taking his hand. His eyes closed. It was just like Kairi…only something was off. Maybe she was this generation's incarnation.

He sat next to her on the couch and looked around. "Naminé isn't here, is she?"

"She's at school." Axel seemed very tense and…snippy. Well, Sora couldn't blame him – it didn't make things any better.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," he said. "I'll answer them the best I can, but believe me when I say I'm sorry. I thought it might be nice to come back, find Kairi…but one breath in this new world and everything was wrong. I don't belong here. I'm sorry…I'm not Roxas and I'm sorry."

"Well, we can already tell you're not Roxas; he's never so…"

"Nice?"

"I was going to say _earnest," _Axel said, giving Xion a dirty look. Xion pretended she didn't see it.

"I do have a few questions," she said, still not letting go of his hand. "Ansem put a spell on Roxas which made it impossible for him to give us a big picture, but you're not bound by the same spell, are you?"

"In a way I am, since he put it on this body. I could probably get around it by wording things differently…hmm. Okay. I'm going to tell you a story, and _please _try to pay attention, because you can get what you need to know and I won't hurt myself or anyone around me by going against the spell."

He took a breath. "Hundreds of years ago, there was a kid who grew up on an island…planet. He and his two best friends, one boy and one girl, decided the world was not enough, and they wanted to see new places. So they built a raft. It was a dinky thing that probably wouldn't have gotten them to another island, let alone another world. But it didn't matter; one night, there was a furious storm, and the island got ripped up by what he didn't understand, but would understand later, was darkness.

"He was tossed around by the dark storm. When he landed, neither of his friends were with him; one had been emotionally gutted by the darkness, one had been seduced by it. He made his way around all the worlds, aided by some new friends, trying to find them. Finally, after fighting, lots of disappointment, and finding out his best friend was being possessed by a figure from the darkness, he was able to save his other best friend, the girl, by stabbing his heart out and then getting it back somehow. She went back to their island once they defeated the darkness in his other best friend, but the dark friend got trapped, so our…protagonist…went to look for him.

"Stuff happened. I'm not too sure about this part, since the boy's memories were rearranged twice, but being dead has its upsides. He was tricked into going into a weird castle, where he met a bunch of incomplete people. In his naïveté, he thought because they couldn't feel they must be evil…see, the darkness was personified by these things called Heartless, which were monsters that didn't have hearts. He was also being manipulated by someone…

"Anyway, because of the stuff that happened in that castle, the kid spent a year asleep while this other kid spent a year walking around. This other kid was created when our protagonist stabbed out his heart, and in order for our protagonist to wake up, the other kid had to…disappear. That created a slight problem later, since that meant there were several souls in the kid's body.

"The kid then fought his way through more of those incomplete people, still thinking they were evil all the way up until one of those 'evil' beings sacrificed himself so the kid could get through to a world that technically didn't exist, since everything there was incomplete. Except the skyscrapers, those were intact. According to Ansem's plan, a group of these incomplete people – Nobodies – was completely destroyed. Ansem had orchestrated the whole thing because he wanted someone to correct the mistakes he'd made, and instead of doing it himself he suckered a couple of other people, including the kid, into doing it for him."

Sora laughed lightly, without any amusement behind it. "When it was all said and done, Ansem ended up blowing himself up with this weird machine, but he wasn't…blown up. There wasn't Ansem goo. He just disappeared. And then when the protagonist realized he'd had a Nobody who died so he could survive, it was really the first time he'd wondered if heartless meant bad. I mean, the suicidal one had been nice enough to open a portal, but…well. He was gullible and always did what he was told, this kid. He was too trusting for his own good.

"When he died, he could finally see everything in a new light. Ansem had paved the way for the Heartless to multiply, though they really had always existed in a different form. He had screwed over the people he worked with. Unintentionally, but still. He tricked people into doing things for him, and threw them away when he was done. All his apologies were too late. And he was _wrong."_

Xion looked thoughtful. Axel looked _angry. _"What makes you think this makes any difference? You're not Roxas. That makes you a problem."

Sora sighed. "I know. Look, we're tied together, through all our lives and incarnations. I wanted to live again. I wanted a chance, because Roxas was dying and he always took chances with his _life._ He had nothing to live for – at least, he thought he didn't. I had this vision of giving him a break, taking care of Naminé, finding Kairi. Settling down away from the craziness. But then you two showed up, and I couldn't take that away from him because it wouldn't be a mercy intervention, it would just be selfish. But _Ansem _took that away from both of us, because he thinks that story is still…uh. Valid. He doesn't see it as killing human beings, but…I can feel Roxas' heart. I can feel your heart. Think back to the story. Do you remember how it ended? _I don't want that. _I want to live, yeah, but not at the expense of other human beings. I realized after everything that everyone deserves a second chance, not just my best friends."

"So…you know what we need to do, right?" Xion moved closer and took his hand – Axel moved to intervene, but stopped. Sora felt for him. "Your soul…"

"I know. I know, it has to be…it's kind of hard to say."

"Severed," Axel said derisively. "It's only two syllables."

Sora rolled his eyes. "That's not what I meant, and you _know _it. Nobody really wants to know they're giving up their existence for someone else, but…I owe him. He did the same thing for me, willingly or not."

"You have Roxas' memories, right?"

He nodded, squeezing Xion's hand lightly. He would put on a brave face, but…he was _scared. _If this went wrong, Roxas could die. Sora could cease to exist. On some level, he knew it would be better to not exist than to live in a perpetual limbo, as he'd done for hundreds of years, but it was still a mind trip. He wondered if this was what being a Nobody felt like. "I know how to…undo what's been done, in all cases. Probably better than he does. Xion…do you know where she is? Just…before I die, do you know where she is and if she's safe? She…isn't you, is she?"

"She couldn't be in more capable hands," Xion said, almost mischievously. "She's not me, not really, but she and I are tied together. You'll be seeing her again."

If Sora was finally done with the recycling process, then that meant…Kairi would be, too. They could finally be together.

Suddenly, Axel asked, "Why do you look different? Roxas said it would be Sora's soul in his body. How do we know this will even work?"

"I don't look different. You're probably just seeing the soul – you have strong Sight, right? Where you see the truth?"

Axel scoffed. "That's news to me."

"They didn't tell him." Xion frowned. "We weren't allowed to talk about it. I saw Roxas telling him about it when they met…I thought…I'm sorry, Axel."

"Wait, so I…Roxas wasn't jerking my chain when he said that thing about disguises? I thought he just. I figured it was…"

Sora reached out to pat his arm, but decided against it. He wasn't Roxas. "Think of it as a good thing."

"How could it be a good thing? What if…what if Roxas doesn't like me at all? What if I've just been staring him into it? Dammit, what if all that noise about being unhappy to see me was how he _really _feels?"

Sora snorted. He couldn't help it. Axel looked offended – it triggered an actual laugh, starting deep in his stomach. "I'm sorry…it's just…Roxas has loved you since before you were born. You can't Sight someone into loving you, no matter how much you want it."

"It's true," Xion agreed. "If that's your worry, Axel, you can rest easy in this case. But…I'm sorry about not telling you. One of the downsides to visions is that you never know which one is accurate. This conversation took place on the timeline in which Roxas didn't tell you, but I thought we were living one of the 'did tell' lines. I should have told you anyway."

"Whatever. It's not your fault. That's not the _point, _anyway. The point is Roxas."

It had always been Roxas, Sora mused. Even last time. The Organization had wanted Roxas. Roxas had influenced the rest of Sora's life. He wondered if there were other lives before, and Roxas had been just as important in those, too.

Did it matter? Sora needed to do the right thing, even if it meant…

Even if it meant losing himself.


End file.
